DUKE 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 


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Vno Joseph  V-lBona 


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Biographical  Essays 


BY 

THOMAS  BABBINGTON  MACAULAY. 


NEW  YORK  : 

JOHN  B.  ALDEN,  PUBLISHER. 
1886. 


ARQYLE  PRESS, 
Printing  and  Bookbinding, 
84  A 9 C WOOSTER  8T.j  N.  Y. 


CONTENTS. 


Lord  Bacon,  $ 

Warren  Hastings,  ...  ^55 

William  Pitt, 


291 


LORD  BACON* 


{Edinburgh  Review,  July,  1837.) 

We  return  our  hearty  thanks  to  Mr.  Montagu 
for  this  truly  valuable  work.  From  the  opin- 
ions which  he  expresses  as  a biographer  we 
often  dissent.  But  about  his  merit  as  a col- 
lector of  the  materials  out  of  which  opinions 
are  formed,  there  can  be  no  dispute  ; and  we 
readily  acknowledge  that  we  are  in  a great 
measure  indebted  to  his  minute  and  accurate 
researches  for  the  means  of  refuting  what  we 
cannot  but  consider  as  his  errors. 

The  labor  which  has  been  bestowed  on  this 
volume  has  been  a labor  of  love.  The  writer 
is  evidently  enamoured  of  the  subject.  It  fills 
his  heart.  It  constantly  overflows  from  his 
lips  and  his  pen.  Those  who  are  acquainted 
with  the  Courts  in  which  Mr.  Montagu  prac- 
tises with  so  much  ability  and  success  well 
know  how  often  he  enlivens  the  discussion  of 
a point  of  law  by  citing  some  weighty  apho- 
risms, or  some  brilliant  illustration,  from  the 
De  Augmentis  or  the  Novum  Organum.  The 
Life  before  us  doubtless  owes  much  of  its 
value  to  the  honest  and  generous  enthusiasm 
of  the  writer.  This  feeling  has  stimulated  his 
activity,  has  sustained  his  perseverance,  has 
called  forth  all  his  ingenuity  and  eloquence  : 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  we  must  frankly  say 
that  it  has,  to  a great  extent,  perverted  his 
judgment. 

* The  works  of  Francis  Bacon , Lord  Chancellor  of 
England.  A new  Edition.  By  Basil  Montagu,  Esq.,  16 
vojs,  8y0i  London;  1825-1834. 


6 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


We  are  by  no  means  without  sympathy  for 
Mr.  Montagu  even  in  what  we  consider  as  his 
weakness.  There  is  scarcely  any  delusion 
which  has  a better  claim  to  be  indulgently 
treated  than  that  under  the  influence  of  which 
a man  ascribes  every  moral  excellence  to  those 
who  have  left  imperishable  monuments  of  their 
genius.  The  causes  of  this  error  lie  deep  in 
the  inmost  recesses  of  human  nature.  We  are 
all  inclined  to  judge  of  others  as  we  find  them. 
Our  estimate  of  a character  always  depends 
much  on  the  manner  in  which  that  character 
affects  our  own  interests  and  passions.  We 
find 't  difficult  to  think  well  of  those  by  whom 
we  are  thwarted  or  depressed ; and  we  are 
ready  to  admit  every  excuse  for  the  vices  of 
those  who  are  useful  or  agreeable  to  us.  This 
is,  we  believe,  one  of  those  illusions  to  which 
the  whole  human  race  is  subject,  and  which  ex- 
perience and  reflection  can  only  partially  re- 
move. It  is,  in  the  phraseology  of  Bacon,  one 
of  the  itiola  tribus.  Hence  it  is  that  the 
moral  character  of  a man  eminent  in  letters  or 
in  the  fine  arts  is  treated,  often  by  contempo- 
raries, almost  always  by  posterity,  with  extra- 
ordinary tenderness.  The  world  derives 
pleasure  and  advantage  from  the  performances 
of  such  a man.  The  number  of  those  who 
suffer  by  his  personal  vices  is  small,  even  in 
his  own  time  when  compared  with  the  number 
of  those  to  whom  his  talents  are  a source  of 
gratification.  In  a few  years  all  those  whom 
he  has  injured  disappear.  But  his  works  re- 
main, and  are  a source  of  delight  to  millions. 
The  genius  of  Sallust  is  still  with  us.  But  the 
Numidians  whom  he  plundered,  and  the  un- 
fortunate husbands  who  caught  him  in  their 
houses  at  unseasonable  hours,  are  forgotten. 
We  suffer  ourselves  to  be  delighted  by  the 
keenness  of  Clarendon’s  observation,  and  by 
the  sober  majesty  of  his  style,  till  we  forget 
the  oppressor  and  the  bigot  in  the  historian. 
Falstaff  and  Tom  Jones  have  survived  the 


LORD  BACON. 


7 


gamekeepers  whom  Shakspeare  cudgelled  and 
the  landladies  whom  Fielding  bilked.  A great 
writer  is  the  friend  and  benefactor  of  his 
readers  ; and  they  cannot  but  judge  of  him 
under  the  deluding  influence  of  friendship  and 
gratitude.  We  all  know  how  unwilling  we  are 
to  admit  the  truth  of  any  disgraceful  story 
about  a person  whose  society  we  like,  and 
from  whom  we  have  received  favors  ; how  long 
wo  struggb  against  evidence,  how  fondly,  when 
the  facts  cannot  be  disputed,  we  cling  to  the 
hope  that  there  may  be  some  explanation  or 
some  extenuating  circumstance  with  which  we 
are  unacquainted.  Just  such  is  the  feeling 
which  a man  of  liberal  education  naturally  en- 
tertains towards  the  great  minds  of  former 
ages.  The  debt  which  he  owes  to  them  is  in- 
calculable. They  have  guided  him  to  truth. 
They  have  filled  his  mind  with  noble  and 
graceful  images.  They  have  stood  by  him  in 
all  vic.ssitudes,  comforters  in  sorrow,  nurses  in 
sickness,  companions  in  solitude.  These 
friendships  are  exposed  to  no  danger  from  the 
occurrences  by  which  other  attachments  are 
weakened  or  dissolved.  Time  glides  on  ; for- 
tune is  inconstant ; tempers  are  soured:  bonds 
which  seem  indissoluble  are  daily  sundered  by 
interest,  by  emulation,  or  by  caprice.  But  no 
such  cause  can  affect  the  silent  converse  which 
we  hold  with  the  highest  of  human  intellects. 
That  placid  intercourse  is  disturbed  by  no  jeal- 
ousies or  resentments.  These  are  the  old 
friends  who  are  never  seen  with  new  faces,  who 
are  the  same  in  wealth  and  in  poverty,  in 
glory  and  in  obscurity.  With  the  dead  there 
is  no  rivalry.  In  the  dead  there  is  no  change. 
Plato  is  never  sullen.  Cervantes  is  never  pet- 
ulant. Demosthenes  never  comes  unseason- 
ably. Dante  never  stays  too  long.  No  differ- 
ence of  political  opinion  can  alienate  Cicero. 
No  heresy  can  excite  the  horror  of  Bossuet. 

Nothing,  then,  can  be  more  natural  than  that 
& person  endowed  with  sensibility  and  imagi- 


8 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


nation  should  entertain  a respectful  and  affec- 
tionate feeling  towards  those  great  men  with 
whose  minds  he  holds  daily  communion.  Yet 
nothing  can  be  more  certain  than  that  such 
men  have  not  always  deserved  to  be  regarded 
with  respect  or  affection.  Some  writers,  whose 
works  will  continue  to  instruct  and  delight 
mankind  to  the  remotest  ages,  have  been 
placed  in  such  situations  that  their  actions  and 
motives  are  as  well  known  to  us  as  the  actions 
and  motives  of  one  human  being  can  be  known 
to  another  ; and  unhappily  their  conduct  has 
not  always  been  such  as  an  impartial  judge  can 
contemplate  with  approbation.  But  the  fanat- 
icism of  the  devout  worshipper  of  genius  is 
proof  against  all  evidence  and  all  argument. 
The  character  of  his  idol  is  a matter  of  faith  ; 
and  the  province  of  faith  is  not  to  be  invaded 
by  reason.  He  maintains  his  superstition  with 
a credulity  as  boundless,  and  a zeal  as  un- 
scrupulous, as  can  be  found  in  the  most  ardent 
partisans  of  religious  or  political  factions.  The 
most  decisive  proofs  are  rejected  ; the  plainest 
rules  of  morality  are  explained  away;  exten- 
sive and  important  portions  of  history  are 
completely  distorted.  The  enthusiast  mis- 
represents facts  with  all  the  effrontery  of  an 
advocate,  and  confounds  right  and  wrong  with 
all  the  dexterity  of  a Jesuit ; and  all  this  only 
in  order  that  some  man  who  has  been  in  his 
grave  during  many  ages  may  have  a fairer 
character  than  he  deserves. 

Middleton’s  Life  of  Cicero  is  a striking 
instance  of  the  influence  of  this  sort  of  par- 
tiality. Never  was  there  a character  which  it 
was  easier  to  read  than  that  of  Cicero.  Never 
was  there  a mind  keener  or  more  critical  than 
that  of  Middleton.  Had  the  biographer 
brought  to  the  examination  of  his  favorite 
statesman’s  conduct  but  a very  small  part  of 
the  acuteness  and  severity  which  he  displayed 
when  he  was  engaged  in  investigating  the  high 
pretensions  of  Epiphanius  and  Justin  Marfyr* 


LORD  BA  COLL. 


9 


he  could  not  have  failed  to  produce  a most 
valuable  history  of  a most  interesting  portion  of 
time.  But  this  most  ingenious  and  learned 
man,  though 

“ So  wary  held  and  wise 
That,  as  ’twas  said,  he  scarce  received 
For  gospel  what  the  church  believed,’’ 

had  a superstition  of  his  own.  The  great  Icon- 
oclast was  himself  an  idolator.  The  great 
Advocato  del  Diavolo,  while  he  disputed,  with 
no  small  ability,  the  claims  of  Cyprian  and 
Athanasius  to  a place  in  the  Calendar,  was  him- 
self composing  a lying  legend  in  honor  of  St. 
Tully.  He  was  holding  up  as  a model  of  every 
virtue  a man  whose  talents  and  acquirements, 
indeed,  can  never  be  too  highly  extolled,  r.nd 
who  was  by  no  means  destitute  of  amiable 
qualities,  but  whose  whole  soul  was  under  the 
dominion  of  a girlish  vanity  and  a craven  fear. 
Actions  for  which  Cicero  himself,  the  most 
eloquent  and  skilful  of  advocates,  could  con- 
trive no  excuse,  actions  which  in  his  confiden- 
tial correspondence  he  mentioned  with  remorse 
and  shame,  are  represented  by  his  biographer 
as  wise,  virtuous,  heroic.  The  whole  history  of 
that  great  revolution  which  overthrew  the 
Roman  aristocracy  the  whole  state  of  parties, 
the  character  of  every  public  man,  is  elabo- 
rately misrepresented,  in  order  to  make  out 
something  which  may  look  like  a defence  of 
one  most  eloquent  and  accomplished  trimmer. 

The  volume  before  us  reminds  us  now  and 
then  of  the  Life  of  Cicero.  But  there  is  this 
marked  difference.  Dr.  Middleton  evidently 
had  an  uneasy  consciousness  of  the  weakness 
of  his  cause,  and  therefore  resorted  to  the  most 
disingenuous  shifts,  to  unpardonable  distortions 
and  suppression  of  facts.  Mr.  Montagu’s  faith 
is  sincere  and  implicit.  He  practises  no 
trickery.  He  conceals  nothing.  He  puts  the 
facts  before  us  in  the  full  confidence  that  they 
will  produce  on  our  minds  the  effect  which  they 


10 


BIO  GRA  PHICA  L ESS  A VS. 


have  produced  on  his  own.  It  is  not  till  he 
comes  to  reason  from  facts  to  motives  that  his 
partiality  shows  itself  ; and  then  he  leaves 
Middleton  himself  far  behind.  His  word  pro- 
ceeds on  the  assumption  that  Bacon  was  an 
eminently  virtuous  man.  From  the  tree  Mr. 
Montagu  judges  of  the  fruit.  Fie  is  forced  to 
relate  many  actions  which,  if  any  man  but 
Bacon  had  committed  them,  nobody  would 
have  dreamed  of  defending,  actions  which  are 
readily  and  completely  explained  by  supposing 
Bacon  to  have  been  a man  whose  principles 
were  not  strirt,  and  whose  spirit  was  not  high, 
actions  which  can  be  explained  in  no  other  way 
without  resorting  to  some  grotesque  hypothesis 
for  which  there  is  not  a title  of  evidence.  But 
any  hypothesis  is,  in  Mr.  Montagu’s  opinion, 
more  probable  than  that  his  hero  should  ever 
have  done  anything  very  wrong. 

This  mode  of  defending  Bacon  seems  to  us 
by  no  means  Baconian.  To  take  a man’s  char- 
acter for  granted,  and  then  from  his  character 
to  infer  the  moral  quality  of  all  his  actions,  is 
surely  a process  the  very  reverse  of  that  which 
is  recommended  in  the  Novum  Organum. 
Nothing,  we  are  sure,  could  have  led  Mr. 
Montagu  to  depart  so  far  from  his  master’s 
precepts,  except  zeal  for  his  master’s  honor. 
We  shall  follow  a different  course.  We  shall 
attempt,  with  the  valuable  assistance  which  Mr. 
Montagu  has  afforded  us,  to  frame  such  an 
account  of  Bacon’s  life  as  may  enable  our 
readers  correctly  to  estimate  his  character. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  Francis 
Bacon  was  the  son  of  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  who 
held  the  great  seal  of  England  during  the  first 
twenty  years  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  The 
fame  of  the  father  has  been  thrown  into  the 
shade  by  that  of  the  son.  But  Sir  Nicholas 
was  no  ordinary  man.  He  belonged  to  a set  of 
men  whom  it  is  easier  to  describe  collectively 
than  separately,  whose  minds  were  formed  by 
one  system  of  discipline,  who  belonged  to  one 


LORD  BACON. 


ti 

rank  in  society,  to  one  university,  to  one  party, 
to  one  sect,  to  one  administration,  and  who 
resembled  each  other  so  much  in  talents,  in 
opinions,  in  habits,  in  fortunes,  that  one  char- 
acter, we  had  almost  said  one  life,  may,  to  a 
considerable  extent,  serve  for  them  all. 

They  were  the  first  generation  of  statesmen 
by  profession  that  England  produced.  Before 
their  time  the  division  of  labor  had,  in  this  re- 
spect, been  very  imperfect.  Those  who  had 
directed  public  affairs  had  been,  with  few  ex- 
ceptions, warriors  or  priests ; warriors  whose 
rude  courage  was  neither  guided  by  science 
nor  softened  by  humanity,  priests  whose 
learning  and  abilities  were  habitually  devoted 
to  the  defence  of  tyranny  and  imposture.  The 
Hotspurs,  the  Nevilles,  the  Cliffords,  rough, 
illiterate,  and  unreflecting,  brought  to  the 
council-board  the  fierce  and  imperious  disposi- 
tion which  they  had  acquired  amidst  the  tumult 
of  predatory  war,  or  in  the  gloomy  repose  of 
the  garrisoned  and  moated  castle.  On  the 
other  side  was  the  calm  and  subtle  prelate, 
versed  in  all  that  was  then  considered  as 
learning,  trained  in  the  Schools  to  manage 
words,  and  in  the  confessional  to  manage 
hearts,  seldom  superstitious,  but  skilful  in 
practising  on  the  superstition  of  others,  false, 
as  it  was  natural  that  a man  should  be  whose 
profession  imposed  on  all  who  were  not  saints 
the  necessity  of  being  hypocrites,  selfish,  as  it 
was  natural  that  a man  should  be  who  could 
form  no  domestic  ties  and  cherish  no  hope  of 
legitimate  posterity,  more  attached  to  his  order 
than  to  his  country,  and  guiding  the  politics  of 
England  with  a constant  side-glance  at  Rome. 

But  the  increase  of  wealth,  the  progress  of 
knowledge,  and  the  reformation  of  religion 
produced  a great  change.  The  nobles  ceased 
to  be  military  chieftains  ; the  priests  ceased  to 
possess  a monopoly  of  learning  ; and  a new 
and  remarkable  species  of  politicians  appeared. 

These  men  came  from  neither  of  the  classes 


12 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


which  had,  till  then,  almost  exclusively  fur- 
nished ministers  of  state.  They  were  all  lay- 
men ; yet  they  were  all  men  of  learning;  and 
they  were  all  men  of  peace.  They  were  not 
members  of  the  aristocracy.  They  inherited  no 
titles,  no  large  domains,  no  armies  of  retainers, 
no  fortified  castles.  Yet  they  were  not  low 
men,  such  as  those  whom  princes,  jealous  of  the 
power  of  a nobility,  have  sometimes  raised 
from  forges  and  cobblers’  stalls  to  the  highest 
situations.  They  were  all  gentlemen  by  birth. 
They  had  all  received  a liberal  education.  It 
is  a remarkable  fact  that  they  were  all  mem- 
bers of  the  same  university.  The  two  great 
national  seats  of  learning  had  even  then  ac- 
quired the  characters  which  they  still  retain. 
In  intellectual  activity,  and  in  readiness  to  ad- 
mit improvements,  the  superiority  was  then,  as 
it  has  ever  since  been,  on  the  side  of  the  less 
ancient  and  splendid  institution.  Cambridge 
had  the  honor  of  educating  those  celebrated 
Protestant  Bishops  whom  Oxford  had  the 
honor  of  burning  ; and  at  Cambridge  were 
formed  the  minds  of  all  those  statesmen  to 
whom  chiefly  is  to  be  attributed  the  secure  es- 
tablishment of  the  reformed  religion  in  the 
north  of  Europe. 

The  statesmen  of  whom  we  speak  passed 
their  youth  surrounded  by  the  incessant  din  of 
theological  controversy.  Opinions  were  still  in 
a state  of  chaotic  anarchy,  intermingling,  sepa- 
rating, advancing,  receding.  Sometimes  the 
stubborn  bigotry  of  the  Conservatives  seemed 
likely  to  prevail.  Then  the  impetuous  onset  of 
the  Reformers  for  a moment  carried  all  before 
it.  Then  again  the  resisting  mass  made  a 
desperate  stand,  arrested  the  movement,  and 
forced  it  slowly  back.  The  vacillation  which 
at  that  time  appeared  in  English  legislation, 
and  which  it  has  been  the  fashion  to  attribute 
to  the  caprice  and  to  the  power  of  one  or  two 
individuals,'  was  truly  a national  vacillation.  It 
was  not  only  in  the  mind  of  Henry  that  the  new 


LORD  BACON'. 


*3 


theology  obtained  the  ascendant  one  day,  and 
that  the  lessons  of  the  nurse  and  of  the  priest 
regained  their  influence  on  the  morrow.  It  was 
not  only  in  the  House  of  Tudor  that  the  hus- 
band was  exasperated  by  the  opposition  of  the 
wife,  that  the  son  dissented  from  the  opinions 
of  the  father,  that  the  brother  persecuted  the 
sister,  that  one  sister  persecuted  another.  The 
principles  of  Conservation  and  Reform  carried 
on  their  warfare  in  every  part  of  society,  in 
every  congregation,  in  every  school  of  learning, 
round  the  hearth  of  every  private  family,  in  the 
recesses  of  every  reflecting  mind. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  ferment  that  the 
minds  of  the  persons  whom  we  are  describing 
were  developed.  They  were  born  Reformers. 
They  belonged  by  nature  to  that  order  of  men 
who  always  form  the  front  ranks  in  the  great 
intellectual  progress.  They  were,  therefore, 
one  and  all,  Protestants.  In  religious  matters, 
however,  though  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt 
that  they  were  sincere,  they  were  by  no  means 
zealous.  None  of  them  chose  to  run  the 
smallest  personal  risk  during  the  reign  of  Mary. 
None  of  them  favored  the  unhappy  attempt  of 
Northumberland  in  favor  of  his  daughter-in-law. 
None  of  them  shared  in  the  desperate  councils 
of  Wyatt.  They  contrived  to  have  business  on 
the  Continent;  or,  if  they  staid  in  England, 
they  heard  mass  and  kept  Lent  with  great  de- 
corum. When  those  dark  and  perilous  years 
had  gone  by,  and  when  the  crown  had  de- 
scended to  a new  sovereign,  they  took  the  lead 
in  the  reformation  of  the  Church.  But  they 
proceeded,  not  with  the  impetuosity  of  theolo- 
gians, but  with  the  calm  determination  of 
statesmen.  They  acted,  not  like  men  who  con- 
sidered the  Romish  worship  as  a system  too 
offensive  to  God,  and  too  destructive  of  souls 
to  be  tolerated  for  an  hour,  but  like  men  who 
regarded  the  points  in  dispute  among  Chris- 
tians as  in  themselves  unimportant,  and  who 
were  not  restrained  by  any  scruple  of  con* 


*4 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


science  from  professing,  as  they  had  before 
professed,  the  Catholic  faith  of  Mary,  the  Prot- 
estant faith  of  Edward,  or  any  of  the  numerous 
intermediate  combinations  which  the  caprice  of 
Henry  and  the  servile  policy  of  Cranmer  had 
formed  out  of  the  doctrines  of  both  the  hostile 
parties.  They  took  a deliberate  view  of  the 
state  of  their  own  country  and  of  the  Conti- 
nent ; they  satisfied  themselves  as  to  the  lean- 
ing of  the  public  mind  ; and  they  chose  their 
side.  They  placed  themselves  at  the  head  of 
the  Protestants  of  Europe,  and  staked  all  their 
fame  and  fortunes  on  the  success  of  their 
party. 

It  is  needless  to  relate  how  dexterously,  how 
resolutely,  how  gloriously  they  directed  the  pol- 
itics of  England  during  the  eventful  years 
which  followed,  how  they  succeeded  in  uniting 
their  friends  and  separating  their  enemies,  how 
they  humbled  the  pride  of  Philip,  how  they 
backed  the  unconquerable  spirit  of  Coligni, 
how  they  rescued  Holland  from  tyranny,  how 
they  founded  the  maritime  greatness  of  their 
country,  how  they  outwitted  the  artful  politi- 
cians of  Italy,  and  tamed  the  ferocious  chief- 
tains of  Scotland.  It  is  impossible  to  deny 
that  they  committed  many  acts  which  would 
justly  bring  on  a statesman  of  our  time  cen- 
sures of  the  most  serious  kind.  But  when  we 
consider  the  state  of  morality  in  their  age,  and 
the  unscrupulous  character  of  the  adversaries 
against  whom  they  had  to  contend,  we  are 
forced  to  admit  that  it  is  not  without  reason 
that  their  names  are  still  held  in  veneration  by 
their  countrymen. 

There  were,  doubtless,  many  diversities  in 
their  intellectual  and  moral  character.  But 
there  was  a strong  family  likeness.  The  con- 
stitution of  their  minds  was  remarkably  sound. 
No  particular  faculty  was  preeminently  devel- 
oped ; but  manly  health  and  vigor  were  equally 
diffused  through  the  whole.  They  were  men 
of  letters.  Their  minds  were  by  nature  and  by 


LORD  BACON. 


*5 

exercise  well  fashioned  for  speculative  pur- 
suits. It  was  by  circumstances,  rather  than  by 
any  strong  bias  of  inclination,  that  they  were 
led  to  take  a prominent  part  in  active  life.  In 
active  life,  however,  no  men  could  be  more 
perfectly  free  from  the  faults  of  mere  theorists 
and  pedants.  No  men  observed  more  accu- 
rately the  signs  of  the  times.  No  men  had  a 
greater  practical  acquaintance  with  human  nat- 
ure. Their  policy  was  gen  .rally  characterized 
rather  by  vigilance,  by  moderation,  and  by 
firmness  than  by  invention,  or  by  the  spirit  of 
enterprise. 

They  spoke  and  wrote  in  a manner  worthy 
of  their  excellent  sense.  Their  eloquence  was 
less  copious  and  less  ingenious,  but  far  purer 
and  more  manly  than  that  of  the  succeeding 
generation.  It  was  the  eloquence  of  men  who 
had  lived  with  the  first  translators  of  the  Bible, 
and  with  the  authors  of  the  Book  of  Common 
Prayer.  It  was  luminous,  dignified,  solid,  and 
very  slightly  tainted  with  at  affectation  which 
deformed  the  style  of  the  ablest  men  of  the 
next  age.  If,  as  sometimes  chanced,  these 
politicians  were  under  the  necessity  of  taking 
a part  in  the  theological  controversies  on  which 
the  dearest  interests  of  kingdoms  were  then 
staked,  they  acquitted  themselves  as  if  their 
whole  lives  had  been  passed  in  the  Schools  and 
the  Convocation. 

There  was  something  in  the  temper  of  these 
celebrated  men  which  secured  them  against 
the  proverbial  inconstancy  both  of  the  court 
and  of  the  multitude.  No  intrigue,  no  combi- 
nation of  rivals,  could  deprive  them  of  the 
confidence  of  their  Sovereign.  No  parliament 
attacked  their  influence.  No  mob  coupled 
their  names  with  any  odious  grievance.  Their 
power  ended  only  with  their  lives.  In  this  re- 
spect, their  fate  presents  a most  remarkable 
contrast  to  that  of  the  enterprising  and  brilliant 
politicians  of  the  preceding  and  of  the  succeed- 
ing generation.  Burleigh  was  minister  during 


1 6 BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

forty  years.  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon  held  the  great 
seal  more  than  twenty  years.  Sir  Walter  Mild- 
may  was  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  twenty- 
three  years.  Sir  Thomas  Smith  was  Secretary 
of  State  eighteen  years;  Sir  Francis  Walsing- 
ham  about  as  long.  They  all  died  in  office, 
and  in  the  enjoyment  of  public  respect  and 
royal  favor.  Far  different  had  been  the  fate  of 
Wolsey,  Cromwell,  Norfolk,  Somerset  and 
Northumberland.  Far  different  also  was  the 
fate  of  Essex,  of  Raleigh,  and  of  the  still  more 
illustrious  man  whose  life  we  propose  to  con- 
sider. 

The  explanation  of  this  circumstance  is  per- 
haps contained  in  the  motto  which  Sir  Nicholas 
Bacon  inscribed  over  the  entrance  of  his  hall 
in  Gorhambury,  Mediocria  firma.  This  maxim 
was  constantly  borne  in  mind  by  himself  and 
his  colleagues.  They  were  more  solicitous  to 
lay  the  foundations  of  their  power  deep  than  to 
raise  the  structure  to  a conspicuous  but  inse- 
cure height.  None  of  them  aspired  to  be  sole 
Minister.  None  of  them  provoked  envy  by  an 
ostentatious  display  of  wealth  and  influence. 
None  of  them  affected  to  outshine  the  ancient 
aristocracy  of  the  kingdom.  They  were  free 
from  that  childish  love  of  titles  which  charac- 
terized the  successful  courtiers  of  the  genera- 
tion which  preceded  them,  and  of  that  which 
followed  them.  Only  one  of  those  whom  we 
have  named  was  made  a peer ; and  he  was 
content  with  the  lowest  degree  of  the  peerage. 
As  to  money,  none  of  them  could,  in  that  age, 
justly  be  considered  as  rapacious.  Some  of 
them  would,  even  in  our  time,  deserve  the 
praise  of  eminent  disinterestedness.  Their 
fidelity  to  the  State  was  incorruptible.  Their 
private  morals  were  without  stain.  Their  house- 
holds were  sober  and  well-governed. 

Among  these  statesmen  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon 
was  generally  considered  as  ranking  next  to 
Burleigh.  He  was  called  by  Camden  “ Sacris 


LORD  BACON, \ 


*7 

conciliis  alteram  columen  ; ” and  by  George 
Buchanan, 

“ diu  Britannici 
Regni  secundum  columen.'’ 

The  second  wife  of  Sir  Nicholas  and  mother 
of  Francis  Bacon  was  Anne,  one  of  the  daugh- 
ters of  Sir  Anthony  Cooke,  a man  of  distin- 
guished learning  who  had  been  tutor  to  Ed- 
ward the  Sixth.  Sir  Anthony  had  paid  consid- 
erable attention  to  the  education  of  his  daugh- 
ters, and  lived  to  see  them  all  splendidly  and 
happily  married.  Their  classical  acquirements 
made  them  conspicuous  even  among  the  women 
of  fashion  of  that  age.  Katherine,  who  be- 
came Lady  Killigrew,  wrote  Latin  Hexameters 
and  Pentameters  which  would  appear  with 
credit  in  the  Muscz  Etonenses.  Mildred,  the 
wife  of  Lord  Burleigh,  was  described  by  Roger 
Ascham  as  the  best  Greek  scholar  among  the 
young  women  of  England,  Lady  Jane  Grey 
always  excepted.  Anne,  the  mother  of  Fran- 
eis  Bacon,  was  distinguished  both  as  a linguist 
and  as  a theologian.  She  corresponded  in 
Greek  with  Bishop  Jewel,  and  translated  his 
Apologia  from  the  Latin  so  correctly  that 
neither  he  nor  Archbishop  Parker  could  suggest 
a single  alteration.  She  also  translated  a series 
of  sermons  on  fate  and  free-will  from  the  Tus- 
can of  Bernardo  Ochino.  This  fact  is  the  more 
curious,  because  Ochino  was  one  of  that  small 
and  audacious  band  of  Italian  reformers  anath- 
ematized alike  by  Wittenberg,  by  Geneva,  by 
Zurich,  and  by  Rome,  from  which  the  Socinian 
sect  deduces  its  origin. 

Lady  Bacon  was  doubtless  a lady  of  highly 
cultivated  mind  after  the  fashion  of  her  age. 
But  we  must  not  suffer  ourselves  to  be  deluded 
into  the  belief  that  she  and  her  sisters  were 
more  accomplished  women  than  many  who 
are  now  living.  On  this  subject  there  is,  we 
think,  much  misapprehension.  We  have  often 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


18 

heard  men  who  wish,  as  almost  all  men  of 
sense  wish,  that  women  should  be  highly  ed- 
ucated, speak  with  rapture  of  the  English  la- 
dies of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  lament  that 
they  can  find  no  modern  damsel  resembling 
those  fair  pupils  of  Ascbam  and  Aylmer  who 
compared,  over  their  embroidery,  the  styles  of 
Isocrates  and  Lysias,  and  who,  while  the  horns 
were  sounding  and  the  dogs  in  full  cry,  sat  in 
the  lonely  oriel,  with  eyes  riveted  to  that  im- 
mortal page  which  tells  how  meekly  and  bravely 
the  first  great  martyr  of  intellectual  liberty 
took  the  cup  from  his  weeping  jailer.  But 
surely  these  complaints  have  very  little  foun- 
dation. We  would  by  no  means  disparage  the 
ladies  of  the  sixteenth  century  or  their  pur- 
suits. But  we  conceive  that  those  who  extol 
them  at  the  expense  of  the  women  of  our  time 
forget  one  very  obvious  and  very  important 
circumstance.  In  the  time  of  Henry  the  Eighth 
and  Edward  the  Sixth,  a person  who  did  not 
read  Greek  and  Latin  could  read  nothing,  or 
next  to  nothing.  The  Italian  was  the  only 
modern  language  which  possessed  anything 
that  could  be  called  a literature.  All  the  val- 
uable books  then  extant  in  all  the  vernacular 
dialects  of  Europe  would  hardly  have  filled  a 
single  ahelf.  England  did  not  yet  possess 
Shakspeare’s  plays  and  the  Fairy  Queen,  nor 
France  Montaigne’s  Essays,  nor  Spain  Don 
Quixote.  In  looking  round  a well-furnished 
library,  how  many  English  or  French  books 
can  we  find  which  were  extant  when  Lady  Jane 
Grey  and  Queen  Elizabeth  received  their  edu- 
cation ? Chaucer,  Gower,  Froissart,  Comines, 
Rabelais,  nearly  complete  the  list.  It  was 
therefore  absolutely  necessary  that  a woman 
should  be  uneducated  or  classically  educated. 
Indeed,  without  a knowledge  of  one  of  the  an- 
cient languages  no  person  could  then  have  any 
clear  notion  of  what  was  passing  in  the  politi- 
cal, the  literary,  or  the  religious  world.  The 
Latin  was  in  the  sixteenth  century  all  and  more 


LORD  BA  COLL. 


r9 


than  all  that  the  French  was  in  the  eighteenth. 
It  was  the  language  of  courts  as  well  as  of  the 
schools.  It  was  the  language  of  diplomacy  ; it 
was  the  language  of  theological  and  political 
controversy.  Being  a fixed  language,  while 
the  living  languages  were  in  a state  of  fluctu- 
ation, and  being  universally  known  to  the 
learned  and  the  polite,  it  was  employed  by  al- 
most every  writer  who  aspired  to  a wide  and 
durable  reputation.  A person  who  was  igno- 
rant of  it  was  shut  out  from  all  acquaintance, 
not  merely  with  Cicero  and  Virgil,  not  merely 
with  heavy  treatises  on  canon-law  and  school- 
divinity,  but  with  the  most  interesting  memoirs, 
state  papers,  and  pamphlets  of  his  own  time, 
nay  even  with  the  most  admired  poetry  and 
the  most  popular  squibs  which  appeared  on 
the  fleeting  topics  of  the  day,  with  Buchanan’s 
complimentary  verses,  with  Erasmus’s  dia- 
logues, with  Hutten’s  epistles. 

This  is  no  longer  the  case.  All  political  and 
religious  controversy  is  now  conducted  in  the 
modern  languages.  The  ancient  tongues  are 
used  only  in  comments  on  the  ancient  writers. 
The  great  productions  of  Athenian  and  Roman 
genius  are  indeed  still  what  they  were.  But 
though  their  positive  value  is  unchanged,  their 
relative  value,  when  compared  with  the  whole 
mass  of  mental  wealth  possessed  by  mankind, 
has  been  constantly  falling.  They  were  the 
intellectual  all  of  our  ancestors.  They  are  but 
a part  of  our  treasures.  Over  what  tragedy 
could  Lady  Jane  Grey  have  wept,  over  what 
comedy  could  she  have  smiled,  if  the  ancient 
dramatists  had  not  been  in  her  library  ? A 
modern  reader  can  make  shift  without  CEdi- 
pus  and  Medea,  while  he  possesses  Othello 
and  Hamlet.  If  he  knows  nothing  of  Pyrgo- 
polvnices  and  Thraso,  he  is  familiar  with 
Bobadil,  and  Bessus,  and  Pistol,  and  Parolles. 
If  he  cannot  enjoy  the  delicious  irony  of  Plato, 
he  may  find  some  compensation  in  that  of 
Pascal.  If  he  is  shut  out  from  Nephelococcy- 


20 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


gia,  he  may  take  refuge  in  Lilliput.  We  are 
guilty,  we  hope,  of  no  irreverence  towards  those 
great  nations  to  which  the  human  race  owes 
art,  science,  taste,  civil  and  intellectual  freedom, 
when  we  say,  that  the  stock  bequeathed  by 
them  to  us  has  been  so  carefully  improved  that 
the  accumulated  interest  now  exceeds  the 
principal.  We  believe  that  the  books  which 
have  been  written  in  the  languages  of  western 
Europe,  during  the  last  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years, — translations  from  the  ancient  languages 
of  course  included, — are  of  greater  value  than 
all  the  books  which  at  the  beginning  of  that 
period  were  extant  in  the  world.  With  the 
modern  languages  of  Europe  English  women 
are  at  least  as  well  acquainted  as  English  men. 
When,  therefore,  we  compare  the  acquirements 
of  Lady  Jane  Grey  with  those  of  an  accom- 
plished young  woman  of  our  own  time,  we  have 
no  hesitation  in  awarding  the  superiority  to  the 
latter.  We  hope  that  our  readers  will  pardon 
this  digression.  It  is  long;  but  it  can  hardly 
be  called  unseasonable,  if  it  tends  to  convince 
them  that  they  are  mistaken  in  thinking  that 
the  great-great-grandmothers  of  their  great- 
great-grandmothers  were  superior  women  to 
their  sisters  and  their  wives. 

Francis  Bacon,  the  youngest  son  of  Sir 
Nicholas,  was  born  at  York  House,  his  father’s 
residence  in  the  Strand,  on  the  twenty-second 
of  January,  1561.  The  health  of  Francis  was 
very  delicate  ; and  to  this  circumstance  may 
be  partly  attributed  that  gravity  of  carriage, 
and  that  love  of  sedentary  pursuits,  which  dis- 
tinguished him  from  other  boys.  Everybody 
knows  how  much  his  premature  readiness  of 
wit  and  sobriety  of  deportment  amused  the 
Queen,  and  how  she  used  to  call  him  her  young 
Lord  Keeper.  We  are  told  that,  while  still  a 
mere  child,  he  stole  away  from  his  playfellows 
to  a vault  in  St.  James’s  Fields,  for  the  purpose 
of  investigating  the  cause  of  a singular  echo 
which  he  had  observed  there.  It  is  certain 


LORD  BACON. 


21 


that,  at  only  twelve,  he  busied  himself  with  very 
ingenious  speculations  on  the  art  of  legerde- 
main ; a subject  which,  as  Professor  Dugald 
Stewart  has  most  justly  observed,  merits  much 
more  attention  from  philosophers  than  it  has 
ever  received.  These  are  trifles.  But  the 
eminence  which  Bacon  afterwards  attained 
makes  them  interesting. 

In  the  thirteenth  year  of  his  age  he  was  en- 
tered at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge;  That 
celebrated  school  of  learning  enjoyed  the  pecu- 
liar favor  of  the  Lord  Treasurer  and  the 
Lord  Keeper,  and  acknowledged  the  advan- 
tages which  it  derived  from  their  patronage 
in  a public  letter  which  bears  date  just  a 
month  after  the  admission  of  Francis  Bacon. 
The  master  was  Whitgift,  afterwards  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  a narrow  minded, 
mean,  and  tyrannical  priest,  who  gained 
power  by  servility  and  adulation,  and  em- 
ployed it  in  persecuting  both  those  who 
agreed  with  Calvin  about  Church  Government, 
and  those  who  differed  from  Calvin  touching 
the  doctrine  of  Reprobation.  He  was  now  in 
a chrysalis  state,  putting  off  the  worm  and 
putting  on  the  dragon-fly,  a kind  of  intermedi- 
ate grub  between  sycophant  and  oppressor. 
He  was  indemnifying  himself  for  the  court 
which  he  found  it  expedient  to  pay  to  the 
Mtnisters  by  exercising  much  petty  tyranny 
within  his  own  college.  It  would  be  unjust, 
however,  to  deny  him  the  praise  of  having  ren- 
dered about  this  time  one  important  service 
to  letters.  He  stood  up  manfully  against  those 
who  wished  to  make  Trinity  College  a mere 
appendage  to  Westminster  School;  and  by 
this  act,  the  only  good  act,  as  far  as  we  re- 
member, of  his  long  public  life,  he  saved  the 
noblest  place  of  education  in  England  from 
the  degrading  fate  of  King’s  College  and  New 
College. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  Bacon,  while  still 
at  College,  planned  that  great  intellectual  rev- 


23 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


olutioti  with  which  his  name  is  inseparable 
connected.  The  evidence  on  this  subject,  how- 
ever. is  hardly  sufficient  to  prove  what  is  in 
itself  so  improbable  as  that  any  definite 
scheme  of  that  kind  should  have  been  so  early 
formed,  even  by  so  powerful  and  active  a mind. 
But  it  is  certain  that,  after  a residence  of  three 
years  at  Cambridge,  Bacon  departed,  carrying 
with  him  a profound  contempt  for  the  course  of 
study  pursued  there,  a fixed  conviction  that  the 
system  of  academic  education  in  England  was 
radically  vicious,  a just  scorn  for  the  trifles  on 
which  the  followers  of  Aristotle  had  w'asted 
their  powers,  and  no  great  reverence  for  Aris- 
totle himself. 

In  his  sixteenth  year  he  visited  Paris,  and 
resided  there  for  some  time,  under  the  care  of 
Sir  Amias  Paulet,  Elizabeth’s  minister  at  the 
French  court,  and  one  of  the  ablest  and  most 
upright  of  the  many  valuable  servants  whom 
she  employed.  France  was  at  that  time  in  a 
deplorable  state  of  agitation.  The  Hugue- 
nots and  the  Catholics  were  mustering  all  their 
force  for  the  fiercest  and  most  protracted  of 
their  many  struggles  ; while  the  Prince,  whose 
duty  it  was  to  protect  and  to  restrain  both,  had, by 
his  vices  andfollies,  degraded  himself  so  deeply 
that  he  had  no  authority  over  either.  Bacon, 
however,  made  a tour  through  several  prov- 
inces, and  appears  to  have  passed  some  time  at 
Poitiers.  We  have  abundant  proof  that  during 
his  stay  on  the  Continent  he  did  not  neglect 
literary  and  scientific  pursuits.  But  his  atten- 
tion seems  to  have  been  chiefly  directed  to 
statistics  and  diplomacy.  It  was  at  this  time 
that  he  wrote  those  Notes  on  the  State  of 
Europe  which  are  printed  in  his  works.  He 
studied  the  principles  of  the  art  of  deciphering 
with  great  interest,  and  invented  one  cipher  so 
ingenious  that,  many  years  later,  he  thought  it 
deserving  of  a place  in  the  De  Angmentis.  In 
February,  1580,  while  engaged  in  these  pur- 
suits, he  received  intelligence  of  the  almost 


LORD  BACON. 


*3 

sudden  death  of  his  father,  and  instantly  re- 
turned to  England. 

His  prospects  were  greatly  overcast  by  this 
event.  He  was  most  desirous  to  obtain  a pro- 
vision which  might  enable  him  to  devote  him- 
self to  literature  and  politics.  He  applied  to 
the  Government ; and  it  seems  strange  that  he 
should  have  applied  in  vain.  His  wishes  were 
moderate.  His  hereditary  claims  on  the  ad- 
ministration were  great.  He  had  himself  been 
favorably  noticed  by  the  Queen.  His  uncle 
was  Prime  Minister.  His  own  talents  were 
such  as  any  minister  might  have  been  eager  to 
enlist  in  the  pubiic  service.  But  his  solicita- 
tions were  unsuccessful.  The  truth  is  that  the 
Cecils  disliked  him,  and  did  all  they  could 
decently  do  to  keep  him  down.  It  has  never 
been  alleged  that  Bacon  had  done  anything  to 
merit  this  dislike  ; nor  is  it  at  all  probable  that 
a man  whose  temper  was  naturally  mild,  whose 
manners  were  courteous,  who,  through  life, 
nursed  his  fortunes  with  the  utmost  care,  and 
who  was  fearful  even  to  a fault  of  offending  the 
powerful,  would  have  given  any  just  cause  of 
displeasure  to  a kinsman  who  had  the  means 
of  rendering  him  essential  service  and  of  doing 
him  irreparable  injury.  The  real  explanation, 
we  believe,  is  this  : Robert  Cecil,  the  Treas- 
urer’s second  son,  was  younger  by  a few 
months  than  Bacon.  He  had  been  educated 
with  the  utmost  care,  had  been  initiated  while 
still  a boy  in  the  mysteries  of  diplomacy  and 
court-intrigue,  and  was  just  at  this  time  about 
to  be  produced  on  the  stage  of  public  life. 
The  wish  nearest  to  Burleigh’s  heart  was  that 
his  own  greatness  might  descend  to  this  favorite 
child.  But  even  Burleigh’s  fatherly  partiality 
could  hardly  prevent  him  from  perceiviig  that 
Robert,  with  all  his  abilities  and  acquirements, 
was  no  match  for  his  cousin  Francis.  This 
seems  to  us  the  only  rational  explanation  of 
the  Treasurer’s  conduct.  Mr.  Montagu  is 
more  charitable.  He  supposes  that  Burleigh 


*4 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


was  influenced  merely  by  affection  for  his 
nephew,  and  was  “ little  disposed  to  encourage 
him  to  rely  on  others  rather  than  on  himself, 
and  to  venture  on  the  quicksands  of  politics, 
instead  of  the  certain  profession  of  the  law.” 
If  such  were  Burleigh’s  feelings,  it  seems 
strange  that  he  should  have  suffered  his  son  to 
venture  on  those  quicksands  from  which  he  so 
carefully  preserved  his  nephew.  But  the  truth  is 
that,  if  Burleigh  had  been  so  disposed,  he  might 
easily  have  secured  to  Bacon  a comfortable 
provision  which  should  have  been  exposed  to  no 
risk.  And  it  is  certain  that  he  showed  as  little 
disposition  to  enable  his  nephew  to  live  by  a 
profession  as  to  enable  him  to  live  without  a pro- 
fession. That  Bacon  himself  attributed  the 
conduct  of  his  relatives  to  jealousy  of  his  supe- 
rior talents,  we  have  not  the  smallest  doubt. 
In  a letter  written  many  years  later  to  Villiers, 
he  expresses  himself  thus  : “ Countenance,  en- 
courage, and  advance  able  men  in  all  kinds, 
degrees,  and  professions.  For  in  the  time  of 
the  Cecils,  the  father  and  the  son,  able  men 
were  by  design  and  of  purpose  suppressed.” 

Whatever  Burleigh’s  motives  might  be,  his 
purpose  was  unalterable.  The  supplications 
which  Francis  addressed  to  his  uncle  and  aunt 
were  earnest,  humble,  and  almost  servile.  He 
was  the  most  promising  and  accomplished  young 
man  of  his  time.  His  father  had  been  the  bro- 
ther-in-law, the  most  useful  colleague,  the  near- 
est friend  of  the  Minister.  But  all  this  availed 
poor  Francis  nothing.  He  was  forced,  much 
against  his  will,  to  betake  himself  to  the  study 
of  the  law.  He  was  admitted  at  Gray’s  Inn  ; 
and,  during  some  years  he  labored  there  in 
obscurity. 

What  the  extent  of  his  legal  attainments 
may  have  been  is  difficult  to  say.  It  was  not 
hard  for  a man  of  his  powers  to  acquire  that 
very  moderate  portion  of  technical  knowledge 
which,  when  joined  to  quickness,  tact,  wit,  in- 
genuity, eloquence,  and  knowledge  of  the  world, 


LORD  BACON. 


2S 


is  sufficient  to  raise  an  advocate  to  the  highest 
professional  eminence.  The  general  opinion 
appears  to  have  been  that  which  was  on  one 
occasion  expressed  by  Elizabeth.  “ Bacon,” 
said  she,  “hath  a great  wit  and  much  learning; 
but  in  law  showeth  to  the  uttermost  of  his  know- 
ledge, and  is  not  deep.”  The  Cecils,  we  suspect, 
did  their  best  to  spread  this  opinion  by  whispers 
and  insinuations.  Coke  openly  proclaimed  it 
with  that  rancorous  insolence  which  was  habitual 
to  him.  No  reports  are  more  readily  believed 
than  those  which  disparage  genius,  and  soothe 
the  envy  of  conscious  mediocrity.  It  must  have 
been  inexpressively  consoling  to  a stupid  ser- 
geant, the  forerunner  of  him  who,  a hundred 
and  fifty  years  later,  “ shook  his  head  at  Murray 
as  a wit,”  to  know  that  the  most  profound 
thinker  and  the  most  accomplished  orator  of 
the  age  was  very  imperfectly  acquainted  with  the 
law  touching  bastardeigne  and  mulier puisne,  and 
confounded  the  right  of  free  fishery  with  that  of 
common  of  piscary. 

It  is  certain  that  no  man  in  that  age,  or  in- 
deed during  the  century  and  a half  which  fol- 
lowed, v'as  better  acquainted  than  Bacon  wuth 
the  philosophy  of  law.  His  technical  know- 
ledge was  quite  sufficient,  with  the  help  of  his 
admirable  talents  and  of  his  insinuating  address, 
to  procure  clients.  He  rose  very  rapidly  into 
business,  and  soon  entertained  hopes  of  being 
called  within  the  bar.  He  applied  to  Lord 
Burleigh  for  that  purpose,  but  received  a testy 
refusal.  Of  the  grounds  of  that  refusal  we  can, 
in  some  measure,  judge  by  Bacon’s  answer, 
which  is  still  extant.  It  seems  that  the  old 
Lord,  whose  temper,  age  and  gout  had  by  no 
means  altered  for  the  better,  and  who  loved  to 
mark  his  dislike  of  the  showy  quick-watted 
young  men  of  the  rising  generation,  took  this 
opportunity  to  read  Francis  a very  sharp  lecture 
on  his  vanity  and  want  of  respect  for  his  bet- 
ters. Francis  returned  a most  submissive  reply, 
thanked  the  Treasurer  for  the  admonition,  and 


26 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  YS. 


promised  to  profit  by  it.  Strangers  meanwhile 
were  less  unjust  to  the  young  barrister  than 
his  nearest  kinsman  had  been.  In  his  twenty- 
sixth  year  he  became  a bencher  of  his  Inn  ; 
and  two  years  later  he  was  appointed  Lent 
reader.  At  length  in  1590.  he  obtained  for  the 
first  time  some  show  of  favor  from  the  Court. 

He  was  sworn  in  Queen’s  Counsel  extra- 
ordinary. But  this  mark  of  honor  was  not 
accompanied  by  any  pecuniary  emolument.  He 
continued,  therefore,  to  solicit  his  powerful 
relatives  for  some  provision  which  might  enable 
him  to  live  without  drudging  at  his  profession. 
He  bore,  with  a patience  and  serenity  which,  we 
fear,  bordered  on  meanness,  the  morose  humors 
of  his  uncle,  and  the  sneering  reflections  which 
his  cousin  cast  on  speculative  men,  lost  in  phil- 
osophical dreams, and  too  wise  to  be  capable  of 
transacting  public  business.  At  length  the 
Cecils  were  generous  enough  to  procure  for  him 
the  reversion  of  the  Registrarship  of  the  Star 
Chamber.  This  was  a lucrative  place;  but,  as 
many  years  elapsed  before  it  fell  in,  he  was 
still  under  the  necessity  of  laboring  for  his  daily 
bread.  In  the  Parliament  which  was  called 
in  1593  he  sat  as  member  for  the  county  of 
Middlesex,  and  soon  attained  eminence  as  a 
debater.  It  is  easy  to  perceive  from  the  scanty 
remains  of  his  oratory  that  the  same  compact- 
ness of  expression  and  richness  of  fancy  which 
appear  in  his  writings  characterized  his  speeches; 
and  that  his  extensive  acquaintance  with  liter- 
ature and  history  enabled  him  to  entertain  his 
audience  with  a vast  variety  of  illustrations  and 
allusions  which  were  generally  happy  and  ap- 
posite, but  which  were  probably  not  less  pleas- 
ing to  the  taste  of  that  age  when  they  were 
such  as  would  now  be  thought  childish  or  pe- 
dantic. It  is  evident  also  that  he  was,  as 
indeed  might  have  been  expected,  perfectly 
free  from  those  faults  which  are  generally  found 
in  an  advocate  who,  after  having  risen  to  em- 
inence at  the  bar,  enters  the  House  of  Com- 


LORD  BACON. 


27 


mons  ; that  it  was  his  habit  to  deal  with  every 
great  question,  not  in  small  detached  portions, 
but  as  a whole  ; that  he  refined  little,  and  that 
his  reasonings  were  those  of  a capacious  rather 
than  a subtle  mind.  Ben  Jonson,  a most  unex- 
ceptional judge,  has  described  Bacon’s  elo- 
quence in  words,  which,  though  often  quoted, 
will  bear  to  be  quoted  again.  “ There  hap- 
pened in  my  time  one  noble  speaker  who  was 
full  of  gravity  in  his  speaking.  His  language 
where  he  could  spare  or  pass  by  a jest,  was  nobly 
censorious.  No  man  ever  spoke  more  neatly, 
more  pressly,  more  weightily,  or  suffered  less 
emptiness,  less  idleness,  in  what  he  uttered. 

No  member  of  his  speech  but  consisted  of 
his  own  graces.  His  hearers  could  not  cough 
or  look  aside  from  him  without  loss.  He  com- 
manded where  he  spoke,  and  had  his  judges 
angry  and  pleased  at  his  devotion.  No  man 
had  their  affections  more  in  his  power.  The 
fear  of  every  man  that  heard  him  was  lest  he 
should  make  an  end.”  From  the  mention 
which  is  made  of  judges,  it  would  seem  that 
Jonson  had  heard  Bacon  only  at  the  Bar.  In- 
deed we  imagine  that  the  House  of  Commons 
was  then  almost  inacessible  to  strangers.  It 
is  not  probable  that  a man  of  Bacon’s  nice 
observation  would  speak  in  Parliament  exactly 
as  he  spoke  in  the  Court  of  Queen’s  Bench. 
But  the  graces  of  manner  and  language  must, 
to  a great  extent,  have  been  common  between 
the  Queen’s  Counsel  and  the  Knight  of  the 
Shire. 

Bacon  tried  to  play  a very  difficult  game  in 
politics.  He  wished  to  be  at  once  a favorite 
at  Court  and  popular  with  the  multitude.  If 
any  man  could  have  succeeded  in  this  attempt, 
a man  of  talents  so  rare,  of  judgment  so  pre- 
maturely ripe,  of  temper  so  calm,  and  of  man- 
ners so  plausible,  might  have  been  expected  to 
succeed.  Nor  indeed  did  he  wholly  fail.  Once 
however,  he  indulged  in  a burst  of  patriotism 
which  cost  him  a long  and  bitter  remorse,  and 


28 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


which  he  never  ventured  to  repeat.  The  Court 
asked  for  large  subsidies  and  for  speedy 
payment.  The  remains  of  Bacon’s  speech 
breathed  all  the  spirit  of  the  Long  Parlia- 
ment. “The  gentlemen,”  said  he,  “ must  sell 
their  plate,  and  the  farmers  their  brass  pots, 
ere  this  will  be  paid ; and  for  us,  we  are 
here  to  search  the  wounds  of  the  realm,  and 
not  to  skim  them  over.  The  dangers  are  these. 
First,  we  shall  breed  discontent  and  endanger 
her  Majesty’s  safety,  which  must  consist  more 
in  the  love  of  the  people  than  their  wealth. 
Secondly,  this  being  granted  in  this  sort,  other 
princes  hereafter  will  look  for  the  like  ; so  that 
we  shall  put  an  evil  precedent  on  ourselves 
and  our  posterity;  and  in  histories,  it  is  to  be 
observed,  of  all  nations  the  English  are  not  to 
be  subject,  base,  or  taxable.”  The  Queen  and 
her  ministers  resented  this  outbreak  of  public 
spirit  in  the  highest  manner.  Indeed,  many 
an  honest  member  of  the  House  of  Commons 
had,  for  a much  smaller  matter,  been  sent  to 
the  Tower  by  the  proud  and  hot-blooded  Tudors. 
The  young  patriot  condescended  to  make  the 
most  abject  apologies.  He  adjured  the  Lord 
Treasurer  to  show  some  favor  to  his  poor  ser- 
vant and  ally.  He  bemoaned  himself  to  the 
Lord  Keeper,  in  a letter  which  may  keep  in 
countenance  the  most  unmanly  of  the  epistles 
which  Cicero  wrote  during  his  banishment. 
The  lesson  was  not  thrown  away.  Bacon  never 
offended  in  the  same  manner  again. 

He  was  now  satisfied  that  he  had  little  to 
hope  from  the  patronage  of  those  powerful 
kinsmen  whom  he  had  solicited  during  twelve 
years  with  such  meek  pertinacity ; and  he 
began  to  look  towards  a different  quarter. 
Among  the  courtiers  of  Elizabeth  had  lately 
appeared  a new  favorite,  young,  noble,  wealthy, 
accomplished,  eloquent,  brave,  generous,  aspir- 
ing ; a favorite  who  had  obtained  from  the 
gray-headed  Queen  such  marks  of  regard  as 
she  had  scarce  vouchsafed  to  Leicester  in  the 


LORD  BACON. 


29 


season  of  the  passions  ; who  was  at  once  the 
ornament  of  the  palace  and  the  idol  of  the 
city  ; who  was  the  common  patron  of  men  of 
letters  and  of  men  of  the  sword  ; who  was  the 
common  refuge  of  the  persecuted  Catholic  and 
of  the  persecuted  Puritan.  The  calm  prudence 
which  had  enabled  Burleigh  to  shape  his  course 
through  so  many  dangers,  and  the  vast  expe- 
rience which  he  had  acquired  in  dealing  with 
two  generations  of  colleagues  and  rivals,  seemed 
scarcely  sufficient  to  support  him  in  this  new 
competition  ; and  Robert  Cecil  sickened  with 
fear  and  envy  as  he  contemplated  the  rising  fame 
and  influence  of  Essex. 

The  history  of  the  factions  which  towards 
the  close  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  divided  her 
court  and  her  council,  though  pregnant  with 
instruction,  is  by  no  means  interesting  or  pleas- 
ing. Both  parties  employed  the  means  which 
are  familiar  to  unscrupulous  statesmen  ; and 
neither  had,  or  even  pretended  to  have,  any 
important  end  in  view.  The  public  mind  was 
then  reposing  from  one  great  effort,  and  col- 
lecting strength  for  another.  That  impetuous 
and  appalling  rush  with  which  the  human  intel- 
lect had  moved  forward  in  the  career  of  truth 
and  liberty,  during  the  fifty  years  which  fol- 
lowed the  separation  of  Luther  from  the  com- 
munion of  the  Church  of  Rome,  was  now  over. 
The  boundary  between  Protestantism  and  Pop- 
ery had  been  fixed  very  nearly  where  it  still 
remains.  England,  Scotland,  the  Northern 
kingdoms  were  on  one  side  ; Ireland,  Spain, 
Portugal,  Italy,  on  the  other.  The  line  of  de- 
markation  ran,  as  it  still  runs,  through  the 
midst  of  the  Netherlands,  of  Germany,  and  of 
Switzerland,  dividing  province  from  province, 
electorate  from  electorate,  and  canton  from 
canton.  France  might  be  considered  as  a de- 
bateable  land,  in  which  the  contest  was  still 
undecided.  Since  that  time,  the  two  religions 
have  done  little  more  than  maintain  their 
ground,  A ' few  occasional  incursions  have 


3° 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


been  made.  But  the  general  frontier  remains 
the  same.  During  two  hundred  and  fifty  years 
no  great  society  has  risen  up  like  one  man, 
and  emancipated  itself  by  one  mighty  effort 
from  the  superstition  of  ages.  This  spectacle 
was  common  in  the  sixteenth  century.  Why 
has  it  ceased  to  be  so  ? Why  has  it  ceased  to 
be  so?  Why  has  so  violent  a movement  been 
followed  bv  so  long  a repose  ? The  doctrines 
of  the  Reformers  are  not  less  agreeable  to 
reason  or  to  revolution  now  than  formerly. 
The  public  mind  is  assuredly  not  less  enlight- 
ened now  than  formerly.  Why  is  it  that  Pro- 
testantism, after  carrying  everything  before  it 
in  a time  of  comparatively  little  knowledge 
and  little  freedom,  should  make  no  perceptible 
progress  in  a reasoning  and  tolerant  age  ; that 
the  Luthers,  the  Calvins,  the  Knoxes,  the 
Zwingles,  should  have  left  no  successors ; that 
that  during  two  centuries  and  a half  fewer  con- 
verts should  have  been  brought  over  from  the 
Church  of  Rome  than  at  tire  time  of  the  Re- 
formation were  sometimes  gained  in  a year? 
This  has  always  appeared  to  us  one  of  the 
most  curious  and  interesting  problems  in  his- 
tory. On  some  future  occasion  we  may  per- 
haps attempt  to  solve  it.  At  present  it  is 
enough  to  say  that  at  the  close  of  Elizabeth’s 
reign,  the  Protestant  party  to  borrow  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Apocalypse,  had  left  its  first  love 
and  had  ceased  to  do  its  first  works. 

The  great  struggle  of  the  sixteenth  century 
was  over.  The  great  struggle  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  had  not  commenced.  The  con- 
fessors of  Mary’s  reign  were  dead.  The 
members  of  the  Long  Parliament  were  still 
in  their  cradles.  The  Papists  had  been  de- 
prived of  all  power  in  the  state.  The  Puritans 
had  not  yet  attained  any  formidable  extent  of 
power.  True  it  is  that  a student,  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  history  of  the  next  genera- 
tion, can  easily  discern  in  the  proceedings  of 
the  Parliaments  of  Elizabeth  the  germ  of  great 


LORD  BACON. 


31 


and  ever  memorable  events.  But  to  the  eye 
of  a contemporary  nothing  of  this  appeared. 
The  two  sections  of  ambitious  men  who  were 
struggling  for  power  differed  from  each  other 
on  no  important  public  question.  Both  be- 
longed to  the  Established  Church.  Both  pro- 
fessed boundless  loyalty  to  the  Queen.  Both 
approved  the  war  with  Spain.  There  is  not, 
so  far  as  we  are  aware,  any  reason  to  believe 
that  they  entertained  different  views  concern- 
ing the  succession  of  the  Crown.  Certainly 
neither  faction  had  any  great  measure  of  re- 
form in  view.  Neither  attempted  to  redress 
any  public  grievance.  The  most  odious  and 
pernicious  grievance  under  which  the  nation 
then  suffered  was  a source  of  profit  to  both,  and 
was  defended  by  both  with  equal  zeal.  Ra- 
leigh held  a monopoly  of  cards,  Essex  a 
monopoly  of  sweet  wines.  In  fact,  the  only 
ground  of  quarrel  between  the  parties  was  that 
they  could  not  agree  as  to  their  respective 
shares  of  power  and  patronage. 

Nothing  in  the  political  conduct  of  Essex 
entitles  him  to  esteem  ; and  the  pity  with 
which  we  regard  his  early  and  terrible  end  is 
diminished  by  the  consideration,  that  he  put 
to  hazard  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  his  most 
attached  friends,  and  endeavored  to  throw  the 
whole  country  into  confusion,  for  objects  purely 
personal.  Still,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be 
deeply  interested  for  a man  so  brave,  high- 
spirited  and  generous  ; for  a man  who,  while 
he  conducted  himself  towards  his  sovereign 
with  a boldness  such  as  was  then  found  in  no 
other  subject,  conducted  himself  towards  his 
dependents  with  a delicacy  such  as  has  rarely 
been  found  in  any  other  patron.  Unlike 
the  vulgar  herd  of  benefactors,  he  desired  to 
inspire,  not  gratitude,  but  affection.  He 
tried  to  make  those  whom  he  befriended  feel 
towards  him  as  towards  an  equal.  His  mind, 
ardent,  susceptible,  naturally  disposed  to  ad- 
miration of  all  that  is  great  and  beautiful,  was 


32 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


fascinated  by  the  genius  and  accomplishments 
of  Bacon.  A close  friendship  was  soon  formed 
between  them,  a friendship  destined  to  have  a 
dark,  a mournful,  a shameful  end. 

In  1594  the  office  of  Attorney-General  be- 
came vacant,  and  Bacon  hoped  to  obtain  it. 
Essex  made  his  friend’s  cause  his  own,  sued, 
expostulated,  promised,  threatened,  but  all  in 
vain.  It  is  probable  that  the  dislike  felt  by 
the  Cecils  for  Bacon  had  been  increased  by 
the  connection  which  he  had  lately  formed  with 
the  Earl.  Robert  was  then  on  the  point  of 
being  made  Secretary  of  State.  He  happened 
one  day  to  be  in  the  same  coach  with  Essex, 
and  a remarkable  conversation  took  place  be- 
tween them.  “ My  Lord,”  said  Sir  Robert, 
“ the  Queen  has  determined  to  appoint  an 
Attorney-General  without  more  delay.  I pray 
your  Lordship  to  let  me  know  whom  you  will 
favor.”  “ I wonder  at  your  question,”  replied 
the  Earl.  “You  cannot  but  know  that  reso- 
lutely, against  all  the  world,  I stand  for  your 
cousin,  Francis  Bacon.”  “Good  Lord!” 
cried  Cecil,  unable  to  bridle  his  temper,  “ I 
wonder  your  Lordship  should  spend  your 
strength  on  so  unlikely  a matter.  Can  you 
name  one  precedent  of  so  raw  a youth  pro- 
moted to  so  great  a place  ? ” This  objection 
came  with  a singularly  bad  grace  from  a man 
who,  though  younger  than  Bacon,  was  in  daily 
expection  of  being  made  Secretary  of  State. 
The  blot  was  too  obvious  to  be  missed  by 
Essex,  who  seldom  forbore  to  speak  his  mind. 
“ I have  made  no  search,”  said  he,  “ for  pre- 
cedents of  young  men  who  have  filled  the 
office  of  Attorney-General.  But  I could  name 
to  you,  Sir  Robert,  a man  younger  than 
Francis,  less  learned,  and  equally  inexperi- 
enced, who  is  suing  and  striving  with  all  his 
might  for  an  office  of  far  greater  weight.”  Sir 
Robert  had  nothing  to  say  but  that  he  thought 
his  own  abilities  equal  to  the  place  which  he 
hoped  fo  obtain,  and  that  his  father’s  long 


LORD  BACON. 


33 


services  deserved  such  a mark  of  gratitude  from 
the  Queen  ; as  if  his  abilities  were  comparable 
to  his  cousin’s,  or  as  if  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon  had 
done  no  service  to  the  State.  Cecil  then  hint- 
ed that,  if  Bacon  would  be  satisfied  with  the 
Solicitorship,  that  might  be  of  easier  digestion 
to  the  Queen.  “ Digest  me  no  digestions,” 
said  the  generous  and  ardent  Earl.  “ The 
Attorneyship  for  Francis  is  that  I must  have ; 
and  in  that  I will  spend  all  my  power,  might, 
authority,  and  amity,  and  with  tooth  and  nail 
procure  the  same  for  him  against  whomsoever ; 
and  whosoever  getteth  this  office  out  of  my 
hands  for  any  other,  before  he  have  it,  it  shall 
cost  him  the  coming  by.  And  this  be  you  as- 
sured of,  Sir  Robert,  for  now  I fully  declare 
myself ; and  for  my  own  part,  Sir  Robert,  I 
think  strange  both  of  my  Lord  Treasurer  and 
you,  that  can  have  the  mind  to  seek  the  prefer- 
ence of  a stranger  before  so  near  a kinsman  ; 
for  if  you  weigh  in  a balance  the  parts  every 
way  of  his  competitor  and  him,  only  excepting 
five  poor  years  of  admitting  to  a house  of 
court  before  Francis,  you  shall  find  in  all 
other  respects  whatsoever  no  comparison  be- 
tween them.” 

When  the  office  of  Attorney-General  was 
filled  up,  the  Earl  pressed  the  Queen  to  make 
Bacon  Solicitor-General  and,  on  this  occasion, 
the  old  Lord  Treasurer  professed  himself  not 
unfavorable  to  his  nephew’s  pretensions.  But, 
after  a contest  which  lasted  more  than  a year 
and  a half,  and  in  which  Essex,  to  use  his  own 
words,  “ spent  all  his  power,  might,  authority, 
and  amity,”  the  place  was  given  to  another. 
Essex  felt  this  disappointment  keenly,  but 
found  consolation  in  the  most  munificent  and 
delicate  liberality.  He  presented  Bacon  with 
an  estate  worth  near  two  thousand  pounds, 
situated  at  Twickenham  ; and  this,  as  Bacon 
owned  many  years  after,  “ with  so  kind  ani 
noble  circumstances  as  the  manner  was  worth 
more  than  the  matter.” 


34 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESS  A VS. 


It  was  soon  after  these  events  that  Bacon 
first  appeared  before  the  public  as  a writer. 
Early  in  1597  he  published  a small  volume  of 
Essays,  which  was  afterwards  enlarged  by  suc- 
cessive additions  to  many  times  its  original 
bulk.  This  little  work  was,  as  it  well  deserved 
to  be,  exceedingly  popular.  It  was  reprinted 
in  a few  months,  it  was  translated  into  Latin, 
French,  and  Italian  ; and  it  seems  to  have  at 
once  established  the  literary  reputation  of  its 
author.  But  though  Bacon’s  reputation  rose, 
his  fortunes  were  still  depressed.  He  was  in 
great  pecuniary  difficulties  ; and  on  one  occa- 
sion, was  arrested  in  the  street  at  the  suit  of  a 
goldsmith  for  a debt  of  three  hundred  pounds, 
and  was  carried  to  a spunging-house  in  Cole- 
man Street. 

The  kindness  of  Essex  was  in  the  mean  time 
indefatigable.  In  1596110  sailed  on  his  memo- 
rable expedition  to  the  coast  of  Spain.  At  the 
very  moment  of  his  embarkation,  he  wrote  to 
several  of  his  friends,  commending  to  them, 
during  his  own  absence,  the  interests  of  Bacon. 
He  returned,  after  performing  the  most  brilliant 
military  exploit  that  was  achieved  on  the  Con- 
tinent by  English  arms  during  the  long  interval 
which  elapsed  between  the  battle  of  Agincourt 
and  that  of  Blenheim.  His  valor,  his  talents, 
his  humane  and  generous  disposition,  had 
made  him  the  idol  of  his  countrymen,  and  had 
extorted  praise  from  the  enemies  whom  he  had 
conquered.*  He  had  always  been  proud  and 
headstrong;  and  his  spendid  success  seems  to 
have  rendered  his  faults  more  offensive  than 
ever.  But  to  his  friend  Francis  he  was  still 
the  same.  Bacon  had  some  thoughts  of  mak- 
ing his  fortune  by  marriage,  and  had  begun  to 
pay  court  to  a widow  of  the  name  of  Hatton. 
The  eccentric  manners  and  violent  temper  of 
this  woman  made  her  a disgrace  and  a torment 
to  her  connections.  But  Bacon  was  not  aware 


* See  Cervantes’s  Novela  de  la  Espahola  Iuglesa. 


LORD  BACON. 


35 


of  her  faults,  or  was  disposed  to  overlook  them 
for  the  sake  of  her  ample  fortune.  Essex 
pleaded  his  friend’s  cause  with  his  usual  ardor. 
The  letters  which  the  Earl  addressed  to  Lady 
Hatton  and  to  her  mother  are  still  extant,  and 
are  highly  honorable  to  him.  “ If,”  he  wrote, 
“she  were  my  sister  or  my  daughter,  I protest 
I would  as  confidently  resolve  to  further  it  as 
I now  persuade  you  ; ” and  again,  “ if  my  faith 
be  anything,  I protest,  if  I had  one  as  near  me 
as  she  is  to  you,  I had  rather  match  her  with 
him,  than  with  men  of  far  greater  titles.”  The 
suit,  happily  for  Bacon,  was  unsuccessful.  The 
lady  indeed  was  kind  to  him  in  more  ways 
than  one.  She  rejected  him  ; and  she  ac- 
cepted his  enemy.  She  married  that  narrow- 
minded, bad  hearted  pedant,  Sir  Edward  Coke, 
and  did  her  best  to  make  him  as  miserable  as 
he  deserved  to  be. 

The  fortunes  of  Essex  had  now  reached  their 
height,  and  began  to  decline.  He  possessed 
indeed  all  the  qualities  which  raise  men  to 
greatness  rapidly.  But  he  had  neither  the  vir- 
tues nor  the  vices  which  enable  men  to  retain 
greatness  long.  His  frankness,  his  keen  sen- 
sibility to  insult  and  injustice  were  by  no  means 
agreeable  to  a sovereign  naturally  impatient  of 
opposition,  and  accustomed,  during  forty-years, 
to  the  most  extravagant  flattery  and  the  most 
abject  submission.  The  daring  and  contempt- 
uous manner  in  which  he  bade  defiance  to  his 
enemies  excited  their  deadly  hatred.  His  ad- 
ministration in  Ireland  was  unfortunate,  and  in 
many  respects  highly  blamable.  Though  his 
brilliant  courage  and  his  impetuous  activity  fit- 
ted him  admirably  for  such  enterprises  as  that 
of  Cadiz,  he  did  not  possess  the  caution,  pa- 
tience, and  resolution  necessary  for  the  conduct 
of  a protracted  war,  in  which  difficulties  were  to 
be  gradually  surmounted,  in  which  much  discom- 
fort was  to  be  endured  and  in  which  few  splen- 
did exploits  could  be  achieved.  For  the  civil 
duties  of  his  high  place  he  was  still  less  quali- 


BJOCKAPHJCAL  ESSAYS. 


36 

fled.  Though  eloquent  and  accomplished,  he 
was  in  no  sense  a statesman.  The  multitude 
indeed  still  continued  to  regard  even  his  faults 
with  fondness.  But  the  Court  had  ceased  to 
give  him  credit,  even  for  the  merit  which  he 
really  possessed.  The  person  on  whom,  dur- 
ing the  decline  of  his  influence,  he  chiefly  de- 
pended, to  whom  he  confided  his  perplexities, 
whose  advice  he  solicited,  whose  intercession 
he  employed,  was  his  friend  Bacon.  The  lam- 
entable truth  must  be  told.  This  friend,  so 
loved,  so  trusted,  bore  a principal  part  in  ruin- 
ing the  Earl’s  fortunes,  in  shedding  his  blood, 
and  in  blackening  his  memory. 

But  let  us  be  just  to  Bacon.  We  believe 
that,  to  the  last,  he  had  no  wish  to  injure  Essex. 
Nav,  we  believe  that  he  sincerely  exerted  him- 
self to  serve  Essex,  as  long  as  he  thought  he 
could  serve  Essex  without  injuring  himself. 
The  advice  which  he  gave  to  his  noble  bene- 
factor was  generally  most  judicious.  He  did 
all  in  his  power  to  dissuade  the  Earl  from  ac- 
cepting the  Government  of  Ireland.  “ For,” 
says  he,  “ I did  as  plainly  see  his  overthrow 
chained  as  it  were  by  destiny  to  that  journey, 
as  it  is  possible  for  a man  to  ground  a judg- 
ment upon  future  contingents.”  The  predic- 
tion was  accomplished.  Essex  returned  in 
disgrace.  Bacon  attempted  to  mediate  be- 
tween his  friend  and  the  Queen  ; and,  we  be- 
lieve, honestly  employed  all  his  address  for 
that  purpose.  But  the  task  which  he  had  un- 
dertaken was  too  difficult,  delicate,  and  perilous 
even  for  so  wary  and  dexterous  an  agent.  He 
had  to  manage  two  spirits  equally  proud,  re- 
sentful, and  ungovernable.  At  Essex  House 
he  had  to  calm  the  rage  of  a young  hero  in- 
censed by  multiplied  wrongs  and  humiliations, 
and  then  to  pass  to  Whitehall  for  the  purpose 
of  soothing  the  peevishness  of  a sovereign, 
whose  temper,  never  very  gentle,  had  been 
rendered  morbidly  irritable  by  age,  by  declin- 
ing health,  and  by  the  long  habit  of  listening 


LORD  BA  COLL. 


37 


to  flattery  and  exacting  implicit  obedience.  It 
is  hard  to  serve  two  masters.  Situated  as 
Bacon  was,  it  was  scarcely  possible  for  him  to 
shape  his  course  so  as  not  to  give  one  or  both 
of  his  employers  reason  to  complain.  For  a 
time  he  acted  as  fairly  as,  in  circumstances  so 
embarrassing,  could  reasonably  be  expected. 
At  length  he  found  that,  while  he  was  trying  to 
prop  the  fortunes  of  another,  he  was  in  danger 
of  shaking  his  own.  He  had  disobliged  both  the 
parties  whom  he  wished  to  reconcile.  Essex 
thought  him  wanting  in  duty  as  a friend  : Eliza- 
beth thought  him  wanting  in  duty  as  a subject. 
The  Earl  looked  on  him  as  a spy  of  the  Queen  : 
the  Queen  as  a creature  of  the  Earl.  The  recon- 
cilation  which  he  had  labored  to  effect  appeared 
utterly  hopeless.  A thousand  signs,  legible  to 
eyes  far  less  keen  than  his,  announced  that  the 
fall  of  his  patron  was  at  hand.  He  shaped  his 
course  accordingly.  When  Essex  was  brought 
before  the  council  to  answer  for  his  conduct  in 
Ireland,  Bacon,  after  a faint  attempt  to  excuse 
himself  from  taking  part  against  his  friend, 
submitted  himself  to  the  Queen’s  pleasure,  and 
appeared  at  the  bar  in  support  of  the  charges. 
But  a darker  scene  was  behind.  The  unhappy 
young  nobleman,  made  reckless  by  despair, 
ventured  on  a rash  and  criminal  enterprise, 
which  rendered  him  liable  to  the  highest  pen- 
alities of  the  law.  What  course  was  Bacon  to 
take  ? This  was  one  of  those  conjectures 
which  show  what  men  are.  To  a high-minded 
man,  wealth,  power,  court-favor,  even  personal 
safety,  would  have  appeared  of  no  account, 
when  opposed  to  friendship,  gratitude,  and 
honor.  Such  a man  would  have  stood  by  the 
side  of  Essex  at  the  trial,  would  have  “spent 
all  his  power,  might,  authority,  and  amity  ” 
in  soliciting  a mitigation,  of  the  sentence,  would 
have  been  a daily  visitor  at  the  cell,  would 
have  received  the  last  injunctions  and  the  last 
embrace  on  the  scaffold,  would  have  employed 
all  the  powers  of  his  intellect  to  guard  from 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


3« 

fnsult  the  fame  of  his  generous  though  erring 
friend.  An  ordinary  man  would  neither  have 
incurred  the  danger  of  succoring  Essex,  nor 
the  disgrace  of  assailing  him.  Bacon  did  not 
even  preserve  neutrality.  He  appeared  as 
counsel  for  the  prosecution.  In  that  situation 
he  did  not  confine  himself  to  what  would  have 
been  amply  sufficient  to  procure  a verdict.  He 
employed  all  his  wit,  his  rhetoric,  and  his 
learning,  not  to  insure  a conviction, — but  the 
circumstances  were  such  that  a conviction  was  in- 
evitable,— but  to  deprive  the  unhappy  prisoner 
of  all  those  excuses  which,  though  legally  of  no 
value,  yet  tended  to  diminish  the  moral  guilt 
of  the  crime,  and  which,  therefore,  though  they 
could  not  justify  the  peers  in  pronouncing  an 
acquittal,  might  incline  the  Queen  to  grant  a 
pardon.  The  Earl  urged  as  a palliation  of  his 
frantic  acts  that  he  was  surrounded  by  power- 
ful and  inveterate  enemies,  that  they  had  ruined 
his  fortunes,  that  they  sought  his  life,  and  that 
their  persecutions  had  driven  him  to  despair. 
This  was  true;  and  Bacon  well  knew  it  to  be 
true.  But  he  affected  to  treat  it  as  an  idle  pre- 
tence. He  compared  Essex  to  Pisistratus  who, 
by  pretending  to  be  in  imminent  danger  of 
assassination,  and  by  exhibiting  self-inflicted 
wounds,  succeeded  in  establishing  tyranny  at 
Athens.  This  was  too  much  for  the  prisoner 
to  bear.  He  interrupted  his  ungrateful  friend 
by  calling  on  him  to  quit  the  part  of  an  advo- 
cate, to  come  forward  ns  a witness,  and  to 
tell  the  Lords  whether,  in  old  times,  lie  Francis 
Bacon,  had  not  under  his  own  hand,  repeatedly 
asserted  the  truth  of  what  he  now  represented 
as  idle  pretexts.  It  is  painful  to  go  on  with 
this  lamentable  story.  Bacon  returned  a 
shuffling  answer  to  the  Earl’s  question,  and,  as 
if  the  allusion  to  Pisistratus  were  not  sufficient- 
ly offensive,  made  another  allusion  still  more 
unjustifiable.  He  compared  Essex  to  Henry 
Duke  of  Guise,  and  the  rash  attempt  in  the 
city  to  the  day  of  the  barricades  at  Paris,  Why 


LORD  BACON. 


39 


Bacon  had  recourse  to  such  a topic  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  say.  It  was  quite  unnecessary  for  the 
purpose  of  obtaining  a'verdict.  It  was  certain 
to  produce  a strong  impression  on  the  mind  of 
the  haughty  and  jealous  princess  on  whose 
pleasure  the  Earl’s  fate  depended.  The  faint- 
est allusion  to  the  degrading  tutelage  in  which 
the  last  Valois  had  been  held  by  the  House  of 
Lorraine  was  sufficient  to  harden  her  heart 
against  a man  who  in  rank,  in  military  reputa- 
tion, in  popularity  among  the  citizens  of  the 
capital,  bore  some  resemblance  to  the  captain 
of  the  League. 

Essex  was  convicted.  Bacon  made  no  effort 
to  save  him,  though  the  Queen’s  feelings  were 
such  that  he  might  have  pleaded  his  benefac- 
tor’s cause,  possibly  with  success,  certainly 
without  any  serious  danger  to  himself.  The 
unhappy  nobleman  was  executed.  His  fate 
excited  strong  perhaps  unreasonable  feelings 
of  compassion  and  indignation.  The  Queen 
was  received  by  the  citizens  of  London  with 
gloomy  looks  and  faint  acclamations.  She 
thought  it  expedient  to  publish  a vindication 
of  her  late  proceedings.  The  faithless  friend 
who  had  assisted  in  taking  the  Earl’s  life  was 
now  employed  to  murder  the  Earl’s  fame.  The 
Queen  had  seen  some  of  Bacon’s  writings,  and 
had  been  pleased  with  them.  He  was  accord- 
ingly selected  to  write  “A  Declaration  of  the 
Practices  and  Treasons  attempted  and  com- 
mitted by  Robert  Earl  of  Essex,”  which  was 
printed  by  authority.  In  the  succeeding  reign, 
Bacon  had  not  a word  to  say  in  defence  of 
this  performance,  a performance  abounding  in 
expressions  which  no  generous  enemy  would 
have  employed  respecting  a man  who  had  so 
dearly  expiated  his  offences.  His  only  excuse 
was,  that  he  wrote  it  by  command,  that  he  con- 
sidered himself  as  a mere  secretary,  that  he 
had  particular  instructions  as  to  the  way  in 
which  he  was  to  treat  every  part  of  the  subject, 


4° 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


and  that,  in  fact,  he  had  furnished  only  the 
arrangement  and  the  style. 

We  regret  to  say  that'  the  whole  conduct  of 
Bacon  through  the  course  of  these  ttansactions 
appears  to  Mr.  Montagu  not  merely  excusable, 
but  deserving  of  high  admiration.  The  integ- 
rity and  benevolence  of  this  gentleman  are  so 
well  known  that  our  readers  will  probably  be  at 
a loss  to  conceive  by  what  steps  he  can  have 
arrived  at  so  extraordinary  a conclusion  ; and 
we  are  half  afraid  that  they  will  suspect  us  of 
practising  some  artifice  upon  them  when  we  re- 
port the  principal  arguments  which  he  em- 
ploys. 

In  order  to  get  rid  of  the  charge  of  ingrati- 
tude, Mr.  Montagu  attempts  to  show  that 
Bacon  lay  under  greater  obligations  to  the 
Queen  than  to  Essex.  What  these  obligations 
were  it  is  not  easy  to  discover.  The  situa- 
tion of  Queen’s  Counsel,  and  a remote  re- 
version, were  surely  favors  very  far  below 
Bacon’s  personal  and  hereditary  claims.  They 
were  favors  which  had  net  cost  the  Queen  a 
groat,  nor  had  they  put  a groat  into  Eacon’s 
purse.  It  was  necessary  to  rest  Elizabeth’s 
claims  to  gratitude  on  some  other  ground  ; and 
this  Mr.  Montagu  felt.  “What  pethaps  was 
her  greatest  kindness,”  says  he,  “instead  of 
having  hastily  advanced  Bacon,  she  had,  with 
a continuance  of  her  friendship,  made  him 
bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth.  Such  were  his 
obligations  to  Elizabeth.”  Such  indeed  they 
were.  Being  the  son  of  one  of  her  oldest  and 
most  faithful  ministers,  being  himself  the  ablest 
and  most  accomplished  young  man  of  his  time, 
he  had  been  condemned  by  her  to  drudgery,  to 
obscurity,  to  poverty.  She  had  depreciated 
his  acquirements.  She  had  checked  him  in 
the  most  imperious  manner,  when  in  Parlia- 
ment he  ventured  to  act  an  independent  part. 
She  had  refused  to  him  the  professional  ad- 
vancement to  which  he  had  a just  claim.  To 
her  it  was  owing  that,  while  younger  men,  not 


LOBD  BACON. 


41 


superior  to  him  in  extraction,  and  far  inferior 
to  him  in  every  kind  of  personal  merit,  were 
filling  the  highest  offices  of  the  state,  adding 
manor  to  manor,  rearing  palace  after  palace, 
he  was  lying  at  a spunging-house  for  a debt  of 
three  hundred  pounds.  Assuredly  if  Bacon 
owed  gratitude  to  Elizabeth  he  owed  none  to 
Essex.  If  the  Queen  really  was  his  best  friend, 
the  Earl  was  his  worst  enemy.  We  wonder 
that  Mr.  Montagu  did  not  press  this  argument 
a little  further.  He  might  have  maintained 
that  Bacon  was  excusable  in  revenging  him- 
self on  a man  who  had  attempted  to  rescue  his 
youth  from  the  salutary  yoke  imposed  on  it  by 
the  Queen,  who  had  wished  to  advance  him 
hastily,  who,  not  content  with  attempting  to 
inflict  the  Attorney-Generalship  upon  him,  had 
been  so  cruel  as  to  present  him  with  a landed 
estate. 

Again,  we  can  hardly  think  Mr.  Montagu 
serious  when  he  tells  us  that  Bacon  was  bound 
for  the  sake  of  the  public  not  to  destroy  his 
own  hopes  of  advancement  and  that  he  took 
part  against  Essex  from  a wish  to  obtain 
power  which  might  enable  him  to  be  useful  to 
his  country.  We  really  do  not  know  how  to 
refute  such  arguments  except  by  stating  them. 
Nothing  is  impossible  which  does  not  involve 
a contradiction.  It  is  barely  possible  that 
Bacon’s  motives  for  acting  as  he  did  on  this 
occasion  may  have  been  gratitude  to  the  Queen 
for  keeping  him  poor,  and  a desire  to  benefit 
his  fellow-creatures  in  some  high  situation.  And 
there  is  a possibility  that  Bonner  may  have 
been  a good  Protestant  who,  being  convinced 
that  the  blood  of  martyrs  is  the  seed  of  the 
Church,  heroically  went  through  all  the  drud- 
gery and  infamy  of  persecution,  in  order  that 
he  might  inspire  the  English  people  with  an 
intense  and  lasting  hatred  of  Popery.  There 
is  a possibility  that  Jeffreys  may  have  been  an 
ardent  lover  of  liberty,  and  that  he  may  have 
beheaded  Algernon  Sydney,  and  burned 


42 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


Elizabeth  Gaunt,  only  in  order  to  produce  a 
reaction  which  might  lead  to  the  limitation  of 
the  prerogative.  There  is  a possibility  that 
Thurtell  may  have  killed  Weare  only  in  order 
to  give  the  youth  of  England  an  impressive 
warning  against  gaming  and  bad  company. 
There  is  a possibility  that  Fauntleroy  may 
have  forged  powers  of  attorney,  only  in  order 
that  his  fate  might  turn  the  attention  of  the 
public  to  the  defects  of  the  penal  law.  These 
things,  we  say,  are  possible.  But  they  are  so 
extravagantly  improbable  that  a man  who 
should  act  on  such  suppositions  would  be  fit 
only  for  Saint  Luke's.  And  we  do  not  see 
why  suppositions  on  which  no  rational  man 
would  act  in  ordinary  life  should  be  admitted 
into  history. 

Mr.  Montagu’s  notion  that  Bacon  desired 
power  only  in  order  to  do  good  to  mankind 
appears  somewhat  strange  to  us,  when  we  con- 
sider how  Bacon  afterwards  used  power,  and 
how  he  lost  it.  Surely  the  service  which  he 
rendered  to  mankind  by  taking  Lady  Wharton’s 
broad  pieces  and  Sir  John  Kennedy’s  cabinet 
was  not  of  such  vast  importance  as  to  sanctify 
all  the  means  which  might  conduce  to  that  end. 
If  the  case  were  fairly  stated,  it  would,  we 
much  fear,  stand  thus:  Bacon  was  a servile 
advocate  that  he  might  be  a corrupt  judge. 

Mr.  Montagu  maintains  that  none  but  the 
ignorant  and  unreflecting  can  think  Bacon 
censurable  for  anything  that  he  did  as  counsel 
for  the  Crown,  and  that  no  advocate  can  jus- 
tifiably use  any  discretion  as  to  the  party  for 
whom  he  appears.  We  will  not  at  present 
inquire  whether  the  doctrine  which  is  held  on 
this  subject  by  English  lawyers  be  or  be  not 
agreeable  to  reason  and  morality  ; whether  it  be 
right  that  a man  should,  with  a wig  on  his  head, 
and  a band  round  his  neck,  do  for  a guinea 
what,  without  those  appendages,  he  would 
think  it  wicked  and  infamous  to  do  for  an 
empire  ; whether  it  be  right  that,  not  merely 


LORD  BACON. 


43 


believing  but  knowing  a statement  to  be  true, 
he  should  do  all  that  can  be  done  by  sophistry, 
by  rhetoric,  by  solemn  asseveration,  by  in- 
dignant exclamation,  by  gesture,  by  play  of 
features,  by  terrifying  one  honest  witness,  by 
perplexing  another,  to  cause  a jury  to  think 
that  statement  false.  It  is  not  necessary  on 
the  present  occasion  to  decide  these  questions. 
The  professional  rules,  be  they  good  or  bad, 
are  rules  to  which  many  wise  and  virtuous  men 
have  conformed,  and  are  daily  conforming. 
If,  therefore,  Bacon  did  no  more  than  these 
rules  required  of  him,  we  shall  readily  admit 
that  he  was  blameless,  or,  at  least,  excusable. 
But  we  conceive  that  his  conduct  was  not 
justifiable,  according  to  any  professional  rules 
that  now  exist,  or  that  ever  existed  in  England. 
It  has  always  been  held  that,  in  criminal  cases 
in  which  the  prisoner  was  denied  the  help  of 
counsel,  and,  above  all,  in  capital  cases,  advo- 
cates were  both  entitled  and  bound  to  exercise 
a discretion.  It  is  true  that,  after  the  Revolu- 
tion, when  the  Parliament  began  to  make  in- 
quisition for  the  innocent  blood  which  had 
been  shed  by  the  last  Stuarts,  a feeble  attempt 
was  made  to  defend  the  lawyers  who  had  been 
accomplices  in  the  murder  of  Sir  Thomas 
Armstrong,  on  the  ground  that  they  had  only 
acted  professionally.  The  wretched  sophism 
was  silenced  by  the  execrations  of  the  House 
of  Commons.  “Things  will  never  be  well 
done,”  said  Mr.  Foley,  “ till  some  of  that  pro- 
fession be  made  examples.”  “ We  have  a 
new  sort  of  monsters  in  the  world,”  said  the 
younger  Hampden,  “haranguing  a man  to 
death.  These  I call  blood-hounds.  Sawver 
is  very  criminal  and  guilty  of  this  murder.” 
“ I speak  to  discharge  my  conscience,”  said 
Mr.  Garroway.  “ I will  not  have  the  blood 
of  this  man  at  my  door.  Sawyer  demanded 
jndgment  against  him  and  execution.  I 
believe  him  guiltv  of  the  death  of  this  man. 
Do  what  you  will  with  him.”  “ If  the  pro- 


44 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


fession  of  the  law,”  said  the  elder  Hampden, 
“ gives  a man  authority  to  murder  at  this  rate, 
it  is  the  interest  of  all  men  to  rise  and  ex- 
terminate that  profession.”  Nor  was  thi3 
language  held  only  by  unlearned  country 
gentlemen.  Sir  William  Williams,  one  of  the 
ablest  and  most  unscrupulous  lawyers  of  the 
age,  took  the  same  view  of  the  case.  He  had 
not  hesitated,  he  said,  to  take  part  in  the  pro- 
secution of  the  Bishops,  because  they  were 
allowed  counsel.  But  he  maintained  that, 
where  the  prisoner  was  not  allowed  counsel, 
the  Counsel  for  the  Crown  was  bound  to  ex- 
ercise a discretion,  and  that  every  lawyer  who 
neglected  this  distinction  was  a betrayer  of 
the  law.  But  it  is  unnecessary  to  cite  authority. 
It  is  known  to  everybody  who  has  ever  looked 
into  a court  of  quarter-sessions  that  lawyers  do 
exercise  a discretion  in  criminal  cases  ; and  it 
is  plain  to  every  man  of  common  sense  that,  if 
they  did  not  exercise  such  a discretion,  they 
would  be  a more  hateful  body  of  men  than 
those  bravoes  who  used  to  hire  out  their  stilet- 
toes in  Italy. 

Bacon  appeared  against  a man  who  was 
indeed  guilty  of  a great  offence,  but  who  had 
been  his  benefactor  and  friend.  He  did  more 
than  this.  Nay,  he  did  more  than  a person 
who  had  never  seen  Essex  would  have  been 
justified  in  doing.  He  employed  all  the  art 
of  an  advocate  in  order  to  make  the  prisoner’s 
conduct  appear  more  inexcusable  and  more 
dangerous  to  the  state  than  it  really  had  been. 
All  that  professional  duty  could,  in  any  case, 
have  required  of  him  would  have  been  to  con- 
duct the  cause  so  as  to  insure  a conviction. 
But  from  the  nature  of  the  circumstances  there 
could  not  be  the  smallest  doubt  that  the  Earl 
w'ould  be  found  guilty.  The  character  of  the 
crime  was  unequivocal.  It  had  been  com- 
mitted recently,  in  broad  daylight,  in  the  streets 
of  the  capital,  in  the  presence  of  thousands. 
If  ever  there  was  an  occasion  on  which  an 


LORD  BACON. 


45 


advocate  had  no  temptation  to  resort  to  ex- 
traneous topics,  for  the  purpose  of  blinding  the 
judgment  and  inflaming  the  passions  of  a 
tribunal,  this  was  that  occasion.  Why  then 
resort  to  arguments  which,  while  they  could 
add  nothing  to  the  strength  of  the  case,  con- 
sidered in  a legal  point  of  Tiew,  tended  to 
aggravate  the  moral  guilt  of  the  fatal  enterprise, 
and  to  excite  fear  and  resentment  in  that  quar- 
ter from  which  alone  the  Earl  could  now  ex- 
pect mercy  ? Why  remind  the  audience  of  the 
arts  of  the  ancient  tyrants  ? Why  deny,  what 
everybody  knew  to  be  the  truth,  that  a power- 
ful faction  at  court  had  long  sought  to  effect 
the  ruin  of  the  prisoner  ? Why,  above  all, 
institute  a parallel  between  the  unhappy  cul- 
prit and  the  most  wicked  and  most  successful 
rebel  of  the  age  ? Was  it  absolutely  impos- 
sible to  do  all  that  professional  duty  required 
without  reminding  a jealous  sovereign  of  the 
League,  of  the  barricades,  and  of  all  the 
humiliations  which  a too  powerful  subject  had 
heaped  on  Henry  the  Third  ? 

But  if  we  admit  the  plea  which  Mr.  Montagu 
urges  in  defence  of  what  Bacon  did  as  an 
advocate,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  Declara- 
tion of  the  Treasons  of  Robert  Earl  of  Essex  ” ? 
Here  at  least  there  was  no  pretence  of  pro- 
fessional obligation.  Even  those  who  may 
think  it  the  duty  of  a lawyer  to  hang,  draw, 
and  quarter  his  benefactors,  for  a proper  con- 
sideration, will  hardly  say  that  it  is  his  duty  to 
write  abusive  pamphlets  against  them,  after 
they  are  in  their  graves.  Bacon  excused  him- 
self by  saying  that  he  was  not  answerable  for 
the  matter  of  the  book,  and  that  he  furnished 
only  the  language.  But  why  did  he  endow 
such  purposes  with  words  ? Could  no  hack 
writer,  without  virtue  or  shame,  be  found  to 
exaggerate  the  errors,  already  so  dearly  ex- 
piated, of  a gentle  and  noble  spirit?  Every 
age  produces  those  links  between  the  man  and 
the  baboon.  Every  age  is  fertile  of  Old- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


46 

mixons,  of  Kenricks,  and  of  Antony  Pasquins. 
But  was  it  for  Bacon  so  to  prostitute  his  intel- 
lect ? Could  he  not  feel  that,  while  he  rounded 
and  pointed  some  period  dictated  by  the  envy 
of  Cecil,  or  gave  a plausible  form  to  some 
slander  invited  by  the  dastardly  malignity  of 
Cobham,  he  wa§  not  sinning  merely  against 
his  friend’s  honor  and  his  own  ? Could  he 
not  feel  that  letters,  eloquence,  philosophy, 
were  all  degraded  in  his  degradation? 

The  real  explanation  of  all  this  is  perfectly 
obvious  ; and  nothing  but  a partiality  amount- 
ing to  a ruling  passion  could  cause  anybody  to 
miss  it.  The  moral  qualities  of  Bacon  were 
not  of  a high  order.  We  do  not  say  that  he 
was  a bad  man.  lie  was  not  inhuman  or 
tyrannical.  He  bore  with  meekness  his  high 
civil  honors,  and  the  far  higher  honors  gained 
bv  his  intellect.  He  was  very  seldom,  if  ever, 
provoked  into  treating  any  person  with  malig- 
nity and  insolence.  No  man  more  readily 
held  up  the  left  cheek  to  those  who  had  smitten 
the  right.  No  man  was  more  expert  at  the 
soft  answer  which  turneth  away  wrath.  He 
was  never  charged,  by  any  accuser  entitled  to 
the  smallest  credit,  with  licentious  habits.  His 
even  temper,  his  flowing  courtesy,  the  general 
respectability  of  his  demeanor,  made  a favora- 
ble impression  on  those  who  saw  him  in  situa- 
tions which  do  not  severely  try  the  principles. 
His  faults  were — we  write  it  with  pain — cold- 
ness of  heart  and  meanness  of  spirit.  He 
seems  to  have  been  incapable  of  feeling  strong 
affection,  of  facing  great  dangers,  of  making 
great  sacrifices.  His  desires  were  set  on  things 
below.  Wealth,  precedence,  titles,  patronage, 
the  mace,  the  seals,  the  coronet,  large  houses, 
fair  gardens,  rich  manors,  massive  services  of 
plate,  gay  hangings,  curious  cabinets,  had  as 
great  attractions  for  him  as  for  any  of  the 
courtiers  who  dropped  on  their  knees  in  the 
dirt  when  Elizabeth  passed  by,  and  then  hasten- 
ed home  to  write  to  the  King  of  Scots  that  her 


LORD  BA  COLL. 


47 


Grace  seemed  to  be  breaking  fast.  For  these 
objects  he  had  stooped  to  everything  and  en- 
dured everything.  For  these  lie  had  sued  in 
the  humblest  manner,  and,  when  unjustly  and 
ungraciously  repulsed,  had  thanked  those  who 
had  repulsed  him,  and  had  begun  to  sue  again. 
For  these  objects,  as  soon  as  he  found  that  the 
smallest  show  of  independence  in  Parliament 
was  offensive  to  the  Queen,  he  had  abased 
himself  to  the  dust  before  her,  and  implored 
forgiveness  in  terms  better  suited  to  a con- 
victed thief  than  to  a knight  of  the  shire.  For 
these  he  joined,  and  for  these  he  forsook,  Lord 
Essex.  He  continued  to  plead  his  patron’s 
cause  with  the  Queen  as  long  as  he  thought 
that  by  pleading  that  cause  he  might  serve 
himself.  Nay,  he  went  further  ; for  his  feel- 
ings, though  not  warm,  were  kind  : he  pleaded 
that  cause  as  long  as  he  thought  that  he  could 
plead  it  without  injury  to  himself.  But  when 
it  became  evident  that  Essex  was  going  head- 
long to  his  ruin,  Bacon  began  to  tremble  for 
his  own  fortunes.  What  he  had  to  fear  would 
not  indeed  have  been  very  alarming  to  a man 
of  lofty  character.  It  was  not  death.  It  was 
not  imprisonment.  It  was  the  loss  of  court 
favor.  It  was  the  being  left  behind  by  others 
in  the  career  of  ambition.  It  was  the  having 
leisure  to  finish  the  Instauratio  Magna.  The 
Queen  looked  coldly  on  him.  The  courtiers 
began  to  consider  him  as  a marked  man.  He 
determined  to  change  his  line  of  conduct,  and 
to  proceed  in  a new  course  with  so  much  vigor 
as  to  make  up  for  lost  time.  When  once  he 
had  determined  to  act  against  his  friend,  know- 
ing himself  to  be  suspected,  he  acted  with 
more  zeal  than  would  have  been  necessary  or 
justifiable  if  he  had  been  employed  against  a 
stranger.  He  exerted  his  professional  talents 
to  shed  the  Earl's  blood,  and  his  literary  talents 
to  blacken  the  Earl’s  memory. 

It  is  certain  that  his  conduct  excited  at  the 
time  great  and  general  disapprobation.  While 


4* 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


Elizabeth  lived,  indeed,  this  disapprobation, 
though  deeply  felt,  was  not  loudly  expressed. 
But  a great  change  was  at  hand.  The  health 
of  the  Queen  had  long  been  decaying ; and  the 
operation  of  age  and  disease  was  now  assisted 
by  acute  mental  suffering.  The  pitiable  mel- 
ancholy of  her  last  days  has  generally  been 
ascribed  to  her  fond  regret  for  Essex.  But  we 
are  disposed  to  attribute  her  dejection  partly 
to  physical  causes,  and  partly  to  the  conduct 
of  her  courtiers  and  ministers.  They  did  all  in 
their  power  to  conceal  from  her  the  intrigues 
which  they  were  carrying  on  at  the  Court  of 
Scotland.  But  her  keen  sagacity  was  not  to 
be  so  deceived.  She  did  not  know  the  whole. 
But  she  knew  she  was  surrounded  by  men 
who  were  impatient  for  that  new  world  which 
was  to  begin  at  her  death,  who  had  never  been 
attached  to  her  by  affection,  and  who  were  now 
but  very  slightly  attached  to  her  by  interest. 
Prostration  and  flattery  could  not  conceal  from 
her  the  cruel  truth,  that  those  whom  she  had 
trusted  and  promoted  had  never  loved  her,  and 
were  fast  ceasing  to  fear  her.  Unable  to 
avenge  herself,  and  too  proud  to  complain,  she 
suffered  sorrow  and  resentment  to  prey  on  her 
heart,  till,  after  a long  career  of  power,  pros- 
perity, and  glory,  she  died  sick  and  weary  of 
the  world. 

James  mounted  the  throne  ; and  Bacon  em- 
ployed all  his  address  to  obtain  for  himself  a 
share  of  the  favor  of  his  new  master.  This 
was  no  difficult  task.  The  faults  of  James, 
both  as  a man  and  as  a prince,  were  numerous  ; 
but  insensibility  to  the  claims  of  genius  and 
learning  was  not  among  them.  He  was  indeed 
made  up  of  two  men,  a witty,  well-read  scholar, 
who  wrote,  disputed  and  harangued,  and  a 
nervous,  drivelling  idiot,  who  acted.  If  he  had 
been  a Canon  of  Christ  Church,  or  a Prebend- 
ary of  Westminster,  it  is  not  improbable  that 
he  would  have  left  a highly  respectable  name 
to  posterity  ; that  he  would  have  distinguished 


LORD  BACON. 


49 


himself  among  the  translators  of  the  Bible,  and 
among  the  Divines  who  attended  the  Synod 
of  Dort;  and  that  he  would  have  been  regarded 
bv  the  literary  world  as  no  contemptible  rival 
of  Vossius  and  Casaubon.  But  fortune  placed 
him  in  a situation  in  which  his  weaknesses 
covered  him  with  disgrace,  and  in  which  his 
accomplishments  brought  him  no  honor.  In  a 
college,  much  eccentricity  and  childishness 
would  have  been  readily  pardoned  in  so  learned 
a man.  But  all  that  learning  could  do  for  him 
on  the  throne  was  to  make  people  think  him 
a pedant  as  well  as  a fool . 

Bacon  was  favorably  received  at  Court  ; and 
soon  found  that  his  chance  of  promotion  was 
not  diminished  by  the  death  of  the  Queen.  He 
was  solicitous  to  be  knighted,  for  two  reasons 
which  are  somewhat  amusing.  The  King  had 
already  dubbed  half  London,  and  Bacon  found 
himself  the  only  untitled  person  in  his  mess  at 
Gray’s  Inn.  This  was  not  very  agreeable  to 
him.  He  had  also,  to  quote  his  own  words, 
“ found  an  Alderman’s  daughter,  a handsome 
maiden,  to  his  liking.”  On  both  these  grounds, 
he  begged  his  cousin  Robert  Cecil,  “ if  it 
might  please  his  good  Lordship,”  to  use  his  in- 
terest in  his  behalf.  The  application  was 
successful.  Bacon  was  one  of  three  hundred 
gentlemen  who,  on  the  coronation-day,  received 
the  honor,  if  it  is  to  be  so  called,  of  knight- 
hood. The  handsome  maiden,  a daughter  of 
Alderman  Brrnham,  soon  after  consented  to 
become  Sir  Francis’s  lady. 

The  death  of  Elizabeth,  though  on  the  whole 
it  improved  Bacon’s  prospects,  was  in  one  re- 
spect an  unfortunate  event  for  him.  The  new 
King  had  always  felt  kindly  towards  Lord 
Essex,  and,  as  soon  as  the  came  to  the  throne, 
began  to  show  favor  to  he  house  of  Devereux, 
and  to  those  who  had  stood  by  that  house  in  its 
adversity.  Everybody  was  now  at  liberty  to 
speak  out  respecting  those  lamentable  events 
in  which  Bacon  had  borne  so  large  a share. 


5° 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  YS. 


Elizabeth  was  scarcely  cold  when  the  public 
feeling  began  to  manifest  itself  by  marks  of 
respect  towards  Lord  Southampton.  That 
accomplished  nobleman,  who  will  be  remem- 
bered to  the  latest  ages  as  the  generous  and 
discerning  patron  of  Shakspeare,  was  held  in 
honor  by  his  contemporaries  chiefly  on  account 
of  the  devoted  affection  which  he  had  borne  to 
Essex.  He  had  been  tried  and  convicted 
together  with  his  friend  ; but  the  Queen  had 
spared  his  life,  and,  at  the  time  of  her  death, 
he  was  still  a prisoner.  A crowd  of  visitors 
hastened  to  the  Tower  to  congratulate  him  on 
his  approaching  deliverance.  With  that  crowd 
Bacon  could  not  venture  to  mingle.  The  mul- 
titude loudly  condemned  him  ; and  his  con- 
science told  him  that  the  multitude  had  but  too 
much  reason.'  He  excused  himself  to  South- 
ampton by  letter  in  terms  which,  if  he  had,  as 
Mr.  Montagu  conceives,  done  only  what  as  a sub- 
ject and  an  advocate  he  was  bound  to  do,  must 
be  considered  as  shamefully  servile.  He  owns 
his  fear  that  his  attendance  would  give  offence, 
aad  that  his  professions  of  regard  would  obtain 
no  credit.  “ Yet,”  savs  he,  11  it  is  as  true  as  a 
thing  that  God  knoweth,  that  this  great  change 
hath  wrought  in  me  no  other  change  towards 
your  Lordship  than  this,  that  I may  safely  be 
that  to  you  now  which  I was  truly  before.” 

How  Southampton  received  these  apologies 
we  are  not  informed.  But  it  is  certain  that 
the  general  opinion  was  pronounced  against 
Bacon  in  a manner  not  to  be  misunderstood. 
Soon  after  his  marriage  he  put  forth  a defence 
of  his  conduct,  in  the  form  of  a letter  to  the 
Earl  of  Devon.  This  tract  seems  to  us  to  prove 
only  the  exceeding  badness  of  a cause  for 
which  such  talents  could  do  so  little. 

It  is  not  probable  that  Bacon’s  Defence  had 
much  effect  on  his  contemporaries.  But  the 
unfavorable  impression  which  his  conduct  had 
made  appears  to  have  been  graduallv  effaced. 
Indeed  it  must  be  some  veiy  peculiar  cause 


LORD  BACON. 


S1 

that  can  make  a man  like  him  long  unpopular. 
His  talents  secured  him  from  contempt,  his 
temper  and  his  manners  from  hatred.  There 
is  scarcely  any  story  so  black  that  it  may  not 
be  got  over  by  a man  of  great  abilities,  whose 
abilities  are  united  with  caution,  good-humor, 
patience,  and  affability,  who  pays  daily  sacri- 
fi;e  to  Nemesis,  who  is  a delightful  companion, 
a serviceable  though  not  an  ardent  friend,  and 
a dangerous  yet  a placable  enemy.  Waller  in 
the  next  generation  was  an  eminent  instance 
of  this.  Indeed  Waller  had  much  more  than 
may  at  first  sight  appear  in  common  with  Bacon. 
To  the  higher  intellectual  qualities  of  the  great 
English  philosopher,  to  the  genius  which  has 
made  an  immortal  epoch  in  the  history  of 
science,  Waller  had  indeedno  pretensions.  But 
the  mind  of  Waller,  as  far  as  it  extended,  coin- 
cided with  that  of  Bacon,  and  might,  so  to 
speak,  have  been  cut  out  of  that  of  Bacon.  In 
the  qualities  which  make  a man  an  object  of  in- 
terest and  veneration  to  posterity,  they  cannot 
be  compared  together.  But  in  the  qualities  by 
which  chiefly  a man  is  known  to  his  contempo- 
raries there  was  a striking  similarity  between 
them.  Considered  as  men  of  the  world,  as 
courtiers,  as  politicians,  as  associates,  as  allies, 
as  enemies,  they  had  nearly  the  same  merits, 
and  the  same  defects.  They  were  not  malig- 
nant. They  were  not  tyrannical.  But  they 
wanted  warmth  of  affection  and  elevation  of 
sentiment.  There  were  many  things  which 
they  loved  better  than  virtue,  and  which  they 
feared  more  than  guilt.  Yet,  even  after  they 
had  stooped  to  acts  of  which  it  is  impossible 
to  read  the  account  in  the  most  partial  narra- 
tives without  strong  disapprobation  and  con- 
tempt, the  public  still  continued  to  regard  them 
with  a feeling  not  easily  to  be  distinguished 
from  esteem.  The  hyperbole  of  Juliet  seemed 
to  be  verified  with  respect  to  them.  “Upon 
their  brows  shame  was  ashamed  to  sit.”  Every- 
body seemed  as  desirous  to  throw  a veil  over 


52 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


their  misconduct  as  if  it  had  been  his  own. 
Clarendon,  who  felt,  and  who  had  reason  to 
feel,  strong  personal  dislike  towards  Waller ; 
speaks  of  him  thus  : “ There  needs  no  more  to 
be  said  to  extol  the  excellence  and  power  of 
his  wit  and  pleasantness  of  his  conversation, 
than  that  it  was  of  magnitude  enough  to  cover 
a world  of  very  great  faults,  that  is,  so  to  cover 
them  that  they  were  not  taken  notice  of  to  his 
reproach,  viz.  a narrowness  in  his  nature  to  the 
lowest  degree,  an  abjectness  and  want  of 
courage  to  support  him  in  any  virtuous  under- 
taking, an  insinuation  and  servile  flattery  to 
the  height  the  vainest  and  most  imperious 
nature  could  be  contented  with.*  * * It  had 
power  to  reconcile  him  to  those  whom  he  had 
most  offended  and  provoked,  and  continued  to 
his  age  with  that  rare  felicity,  that  his  company 
was  acceptable  where  his  spirit  was  odious, 
and  he  was  at  least  pitied  where  he  was  most 
detested.”  Much  of  this,  with  some  softening, 
might,  we  fear,  be  applied  to  Bacon.  The  in- 
fluence of  Waller’s  talents,  manners  and  accom- 
plishments, died  with  him ; and  the  world  has 
pronounced  an  unbiassed  sentence  on  his  char- 
acter. A few  flowing  lines  are  not  bribe  suffi- 
cient to  pervert  the  judgment  of  posterity. 
But  the  influence  of  Bacon  is  felt  and  will  long 
be  felt  over  the  whole  civilized  world.  Lenient- 
ly as  he  was  treated  by  his  contemporaries,  pos- 
terity has  treated  him  more  leniently  still.  Turn 
where  we  may,  the  trophies  of  that  mighty  in- 
tellect are  full  in  view'.  We  are  judging  Man- 
lius in  sight  of  the  Capitol. 

Under  the  reign  of  James,  Bacon  grew  rapid- 
ly in  fortune  and  favor.  In  1604  he  was  ap- 
pointed King’s  Counsel,  with  a fee  of  forty 
pounds  a year  ; and  a pension  of  sixty  pounds 
a year  was  settled  upon  him.  In  1607  he  be- 
came Solicitor-General,  in  1612  Attorney-Gen- 
eral. He  continued  to  distinguish  himself  in 
Parliament,  particularly  by  his  exertions  in 
favor  of  one  excellent  measure  on  which  the 


LORD  BACON. 


S3 


King’s  heart  was  set,  the  union  of  England  and 
Scotland.  It  was  not  difficult  for  such  an  in- 
tellect to  discover  many  irresistible  arguments 
in  favor  of  such  a scheme.  He  conducted  the 
great  case  of  the  Post  Nati  in  the  Exchequer 
Chamber;  and  the  decision  of  the  judges,  a 
decision  the  legality  of  which  may  be  ques- 
tioned, but  the  beneficial  effect  of  which  must 
be  acknowledged,  was  in  a great  measure  at- 
tributed to  his  dexterous  management.  While 
actively  engaged  in  the  House  of  Commons 
and  in  the  courts  of  law,  he  still  found  leisure 
for  letters  and  philosophy.  The  noble  treat- 
ies on  the  “Advancement  of  Learning,”  which 
at  a later  period  was  expanded  into  the  De  Aug- 
mentis,  appeared  in  1605.  The  “Wisdom  of 
the  Ancients,”  a work  which,  if  it  had  pro- 
ceeded from  any  other  writer,  would  have  been 
considered  as  a masterpiece  of  wit  and  learning, 
but  which  adds  little  to  lhe„fame  of  Bacon,  was 
printed  in  1609.  In  the  meantime  the  Novum 
Organum  was  slowly  proceeding.  Several  dis- 
tinguished men  of  learning  had  been  permitted 
to  see  sketches  or  detached  portions  of  that 
extraordinary  book;  and,  though  they  were  not 
generally  disposed  to  admit  the  soundness  of 
the  author’s  views,  they  spoke  with  the  greatest 
admiration  of  his  genius.  Sir  Thomas  Bodlev, 
the  founder  of  one  of  the  most  magnificent  of 
English  libraries,  was  among  those  stubborn 
Conservatives  who  considered  the  hopes  with 
which  Bacon  looked  forward  to  the  future  des- 
tinies of  the  human  race  as  utterly  chimerical, 
and  who  regarded  with  distrust  and  aversion 
the  innovating  spirit  of  the  new  schismatics  in 
philosophy.  Yet  even  Bodley,  after  perusing 
the  Cogitata  et  Visa , one  of  the  most  precious 
of  those  scattered  leaves  out  of  which  the  great 
oracular  volume  was  afterwards  made  up,  ac- 
knowledges that  in  “ those  very  points,  and  in 
all  proposals  and  plots  in  that  book,  Bacon 
showed  himself  a master-workman  ; ” and  that 
“ it  could  not  be  gainsaid  but  all  the  treaties 


54 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


ever  did  abound  with  choice  conceits  of  the 
present  state  of  learning,  and  with  worthy 
contemplation  of  the  means  to  procure  it.” 
In  1612,  a new  edition  of  the  “ Essays”  ap- 
peared, with  additions  surpassing  the  original 
collection  both  in  bulk  and  quality.  Nor  did 
these  pursuits  distract  Bacon’s  attention  from 
a work  the  most  arduous,  the  most  glorious, 
and  the  most  useful  that  even  his  mighty  pow- 
ers could  have  achieved,  “ the  reducing  and 
compiling,”  to  use  his  own  phrase,  “ of  the  laws 
of  England.” 

Unhappily  he  was  at  that  time  employed  in 
perverting  those  laws  to  the  vilest  purposes  of 
tyranny.  When  Oliver  St.  John  was  brought 
before  the  Star  Chamber  for  maintaining 
that  the  King  had  no  right  to  levy  Benevo- 
lences, and  was  for  his  manly  and  constitutional 
conduct  sentenced  to  imprisonment  during  the 
royal  pleasure  and  Jo  a fine  of  five  thousand 
pounds,  Bacon  appeared  as  counsel  for  the  pro- 
secution. About  the  same  time  he  was  deeply 
engaged  in  a still  more  disgraceful  transaction. 
An  aged  clergyman,  of  the  name  of  Peacham, 
was  accused  of  treason  on  account  of  some 
passages  of  a sermon  which  was  found  in  his 
study.  The  sermon,  whether  written  by  him 
or  not,  had  never  been  preached.  It  did  not 
appear  that  he  had  any  intention  of  preaching 
it.  The  most  servile  lawyers  of  those  servile 
times  were  forced  to  admit  that  there  were 
great  difficulties  both  as  to  the  facts  and  as  to 
the  law.  Bacon  was  employed  to  remove  those 
difficulties.  He  was  employed  to  settle  the 
question  of  law  by  tampering  with  the  judges, 
and  the  question  of  fact  by  torturing  the  pris- 
oner. 

Three  judges  of  the  Court  of  King’s  Bench 
were  tractable.  But  Coke  was  made  of  differ- 
ent stuff.  Pedant,  bigot,  and  brute  as  he  was, 
he  had  qualities  which  bore  a strong,  though  a 
very  disagreeable  resemblance  to  some  of  the 
highest  virtues  which  a public  man  can  possess. 


LORD  BACON. 


55 


He  was  an  exception  to  a maxim  which  we 
believe  to  be  generally  true,  that  those  who 
trample  on  the  helpless  are  disposed  to  cringe 
to  the  powerful.  He  behaved  with  gross  rude- 
ness to  his  juniors  at  the  bar,  and  with  exe- 
crable cruelty  to  prisoners  on  trial  for  their 
lives.  But  he  stood  up  manfully  against  the 
King’s  favorites.  No  man  of  that  age  appeared 
to  so  little  advantags  when  he  was  opposed  to 
an  inferior,  and  was  in  the  wrong.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  but  fair  to  admit  that  no  man 
of  that  age  made  so  creditable  a figure  when  he 
was  opposed  to  a superior,  and  happened  to  be 
in  the  right.  On  such  occasions,  his  half-sup- 
pressed  insolence  and  his  impracticable  obsti- 
nacy had  a respectable  and  interesting  appear- 
ance, when  compared  with  the  abject  servility 
of  the  bar  and  of  the  bench.  On  the  present 
occasion  he  was  stubborn  and  surly.  He 
declared  that  it  was  a new  and  a highly  im- 
proper practice  in  the  judges  to  confer  with  a 
law-officer  of  the  crown  about  capital  cases 
which  they  were  afterwards  to  try ; and  for 
some  time  he  resolutely  kept  aloof.  But  Bacon 
was  equally  artful  and  persevering.  “ I am  not 
wholly  out  of  hope,”  said  he  in  a letter  to  the 
King,  “ that  my  Lord  Coke  himself,  when  I 
have  in  some  dark  manner  put  him  in  doubt 
that  he  shall  be  left  alone,  will  not  be  singular.” 
After  some  time  Bacon's  dexterity  was  success- 
ful; and  Coke,  sullenly  and  reluctantly,  follow- 
ed the  example  of  his  brethren.  But  in  order 
to  convict  Peacham  it  was  necessary  to  find 
facts  as  well  as  law.  Accordingly,  this  wretched 
old  man  was  put  to  the  rack,  and,  while  under- 
going the  horrible  infliction,  was  examined  by 
Bacon,  but  in  vain.  No  confession  could  be 
wrung  out  of  him  ; and  Bacon  wrote  to  the 
King,  complaining  that  Peacham  had  a dumb 
devil.  At  length  the  trial  came  on.  A con- 
viction was  obtained;  but  the  charges  were  so 
obviously  ft  tile,  that  the  government  could  not, 
for  very  shame,  carry  the  sentence  into  execu- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


S' 6 

tion ; and  Peacham  was  suffered  to  languish 
away  the  short  remainder  of  his  life  in  a prison. 

All  this  frightful  story  Mr.  Montagu  relates 
fairly.  He  neither  conceals  nor  distorts  and 
material  fact.  Put  he  can  see  nothing  deserv- 
ing of  condemnation  in  Bacon’s  conduct.  He 
tells  us  most  truly  that  we  ought  not  to  try  the 
men  of  one  age  by  the  standard  of  another; 
that  Sir  Matthew  Hale  is  not  to  be  pronounced 
a bad  man  because  he  left  a woman  to  be  exe- 
cuted for  witchcraft  ; that  posterity  will  not  be 
justified  in  censuring  judges  of  our  time,  for 
selling  offices  in  their  courts,  according  to  the 
established  practice,  bad  as  that  practice  was ; 
and  that  Bacon  is  entitled  to  similar  indulgence. 
“To  persecute  the  lover  of  truth,”  says  Mr. 
Montagu,  “ for  opposing  established  customs, 
and  to  censure  him  in  after  ages  for  not  havirg 
been  more  strenuous  in  opposition  are  errors 
which  will  never  cease  until  the  pleasure  of 
self-elevation  from  the  depression  of  superiority 
is  no  more.” 

We  have  no  dispute  with  Mr.  Montagu  about 
the  general  proposition.  We  assent  to  every 
word  of  it.  But  does  it  apply  to  the  present 
case  ? Is  it  true  that  in  the  time  of  James  the 
First  it  was  the  established  practice  for  the  law- 
officers  of  the  Crown,  to  hold  private  consulta- 
tions with  the  judges,  touching  Capital  cases 
which  those  judges  were  afterwards  to  try? 
Certainly  not.  In  the  very  page  in  which  Mr. 
Montagu  asserts  that  “ influencing  a judge  out 
of  court  seems  at  that  period  scarcely  to  have 
been  considered  as  improper,”  he  gives  the 
very  words  of  Sir  Edward  Coke  on  the  subject. 
“ I will  not  thus  declare  what  may  be  my  judg- 
ment by  these  auricular  confessions  of  new 
and  pernicious  tendency,  and  not  according  to 
the  customs  of  the  realm."  Is  it  possible  to  im- 
agine that  Coke,  who  had  himself  been 
Attorney-General  during  thirteen  years,  who 
had  conducted  a far  greater  number  of  import- 
ant state-prosecutions  than  any  other  lawyer 


LORD  BACON. 


57 


named  in  English  history,  and  who  had  passed 
with  scarcely  any  interval  from  the  Attorney- 
Generalship  to  the  first  seat  in  the  first  crim- 
inal court  in  the  realm,  could  have  been  startled 
at  an  invitation  to  confer  with  the  crown- 
lawyers,  and  could  have  pronounced  the  prac- 
tice new,  if  it  had  really  been  an  established 
usage  ? We  well  know  that,  where  property 
only  was  at  stake,  it  was  then  a common, 
though  a most  culpable  practice,  in  the  judges, 
to  listen  to  private  solicitations.  But  the  prac- 
tice of  tampering  with  judges  in  order  to  pro- 
cure capital  convictions  we  belive  to  have  been 
new,  first,  because  Coke,  who  understood  those 
matters  better  than  any  man  of  his  time, 
asserted  it  to  be  new  ; and  secondly,  because 
neither  Bacon  nor  Mr.  Montagu  has  shown  a 
single  precedent. 

How  then  stands  the  case  ? Even  thus  : 
Bacon  was  not  conforming  to  an  usage  then 
generally  admitted  to  be  proper.  He  was  not 
even  the  last  lingering  adherent  of  an  old 
abuse.  It  would  have  been  sufficiently  disgrace- 
ful to  such  a man  to  be  in  this  last  situation. 
Yet  this  last  situation  would  have  been  honor- 
able compared  with  that  in  which  he  stood. 
He  was  guilty  of  attempting  to  introduce  into 
the  courts  of  law  an  odious  abuse  for  which  no 
precedent  could  be  found.  Intellectually,  he 
was  better  fitted  than  any  man  that  England 
has  ever  produced  for  the  work  of  improving 
her  institutions.  But  unhappily,  we  see  that 
he  did  not  scruple  to  exert  his  great  powers 
for  the  purpose  of  introducing  into  those  insti- 
tutions new  corruptions  of  the  foulest  kind. 

The  same,  or  nearly  the  same,  may  be  said 
of  the  torturing  of  Peacham.  If  it  be  true  that 
in  the  time  of  James  the  First  the  propriety  of 
torturing  prisoners  was  generally  allowed,  we 
should  admit  this  as  an  excuse,  though  we 
should  admit  it  less  readily  in  the  case  of  such 
a man  as  Bacon  than  in  the  case  of  an  ordinary 
lawyer  or  politician.  But  the  fact  is,  that  the 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


58 

practice  of  torturing  prisoners  was  then  gener- 
ally acknowledged  by  lawyers  to  be  illegal, 
and  was  execrated  by  the  public  as  barbarous. 
More  than  thirty  years  before  Peacham's  trial, 
that  practice  was  so  loudly  condemned  by  the 
voice  of  the  nation  that  Lord  Burleigh  found 
it  necessary  to  publish  an  apology  for  having 
occasionally  resorted  to  it.  But  though  the  dan- 
gers which  then  threatened  the  government  were 
of  a very  different  kind  from  those  which  were 
to  be  apprehended  from  any  thing  that  Peacham 
could  write,  though  the  life  of  the  Queen  and 
the  dearest  interests  of  the  state  were  in  jeop- 
ardy, though  the  circumstances  were  such  that 
all  ordinary  laws  might  seem  to  be  superseded 
by  that  highest  law,  the  public  safety,  the  apol- 
ogy did  not  satisfy  the  country:  and  the  Queen 
found  it  expedient  to  issue  an  order  positively 
forbidding  the  torturing  of  state-prisoners  on 
any  pretence  whatever.  From  that  time,  the 
practice  of  torturing,  which  had  always  been 
unpopular,  which  had  always  been  illegal,  had 
also  been  unusual.  It  is  well  known  that  in 
1628,  only  fourteen  years  after  the  time  when 
Bacon  went  to  the  Tower  to  listen  to  the  yells 
of  Peacham,  the  judges  decided  that  Felton,  a 
criminal  who  neither  deserved  nor  was  likely 
to  obtain  any  extraordinary  indulgence,  could 
not  lawfully  be  put  to  the  question.  We  there- 
fore say  that  Bacon  stands  in  a verv  different 
situation  from  that  in  which  Mr.  Montagu  tries 
to  place  him.  Bacon  was  here  distinctly  behind 
Lis  age.  He  was  one  of  the  last  of  the  tools  of 
power  who  persisted  in  a practice  the  most 
barbarous  and  the  most  absurd  that  has  ever 
disgraced  jurisprudence,  in  a practice  of  which 
in  the  preceding  generation,  Elizabeth  and  her 
ministers  had  been  ashamed,  in  a practice 
which,  a few  years  later,  no  sycophant  in  all  the 
Inns  of  Court  had  the  heart  or  the  forehead 
to  defend. # 

* Since  this  review  was  written,  Mr.  Jardine  have 
published  a very  learned  and  ingenious  Reading  on  the 


LORD  BA  CUN. 


59 


Bacon  far  behind  his  age  ! Bacon  far  be- 
hind Sir  Edward  Coke  ! Bacon  clinging  to  ex- 
ploded abuses  ! Bacon  withstanding  the  pro- 
gress of  improvement ! Bacon  struggling  to 
push  back  the  human  mind  ! The  words  seem 
strange.  They  sound  like  a contradiction  in 
terms.  Yet  the  fact  is  even  so  : and  the  ex- 
planation may  be  readily  found  by  any  person 
who  is  not  blinded  by  prejudice.  Mr.  Montagu 
cannot  believe  that  so  extraordinary  a man  as 
Bacon  could  be  guilty  of  a bad  action ; as  If 
history  were  not  made  up  of  the  bad  actions 
of  extraordinary  men,  as  if  all  the  most  noted 
destroyers  and  deceivers  of  our  species,  all  the 
founders  of  arbitrary  governments  and  false 
religions,  had  not' been  extraordinary  men,  as 
if  nine  tenths  of  the  calamities  which  have  be- 
fallen the  human  race  had  any  other  origin  than 
the  union  of  high  intelligence  with  low  desires. 
Bacon  knew  this  well.  He  has  told  us  that 
there  are  persons  “ scientia  ranquam  angeli 
alati,  cupiditatibus  vero  tanquam  serpentes  qui 
humi  reptant ; ” * and  it  did  not  require  his 
admirable  sagacity  and  his  extensive  converse 
with  mankind  to  make  the  discovery.  Indeed, 
he  had  only  to  look  within.  The  difference 
between  the  soaring  angel  and  the  creeping 
snake  was  but  a type  of  the  difference  between 
Bacon  the  philosopher  and  Bacon  the  Attornev- 
General,  Bacon  seeking  for  truth,  and  Bacon 
seeking  for  the  Seals.  Those  who  survey  only 

use  of  torture  in  England.  It  has  not  however,  been 
thought  necessary  to  make  any  change  in  the  observa- 
tions on  Peacham’s  case. 

It  is  impossible  to  discuss  within  the  limits  of  a note, 
the  extensive  question  raised  by  Mr.  Jardine.  It  is 
sufficient  here  to  say  that  every  argument  by  which  he 
attempts  to  show  that  the  use  of  the  rack  was  anciently 
a lawful  exertion  of  royal  perogative  may  be  urged  with 
equal  force,  nay  with  far  greater  force,  to  prove  the 
lawfulness  of  benevolences,  of  ship-monev,  of  Mompes- 
son’s  patent  of  Eliot’s  imprisonment,  of  every  abuse, 
without  exception,  which  is  condemned  by  the  petition 
of  Right  and  the  Declaration  of  Right. 

* De  Augmeutis , Lib.  v.  Cap.  I. 


6o 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


one  half  of  his  character  may  speak  of  him 
with  unmixed  admiration,  or  with  unmixed  con- 
tempt. But  those  only  judge  of  him  correctly 
who  take  in  at  one  view  Bacon  in  speculation 
and  Bacon  in  action.  They  will  have  no 
difficulty  in  comprehending  how  one  and 
the  same  man  should  have  been  far  be- 
fore his  age  and  far  behind  it,  in  one  line  the 
boldest  and  most  useful  of  innovators,  in  an- 
other line  the  most  obstinate  champion  of  the 
foulest  abuses.  In  his  library,  all  his  rare 
powers  were  under  the  guidance  of  an  honest 
ambition,  of  an  enlarged  philanthropy,  of  a 
sincere  love  of  truth.  There,  no  temptation 
drew  him  away  from  the  right  course.  Thomas 
Aquinas  could  pay  no  fees,  Duns  Scotus  could 
confer  no  peerages.  The  Master  of  the  Sen- 
tences had  no  rich  reversions  in  his  gift.  Far 
different  was  the  situation  of  the  great  philoso- 
pher when  he  came  forth  from  his  study  and 
his  laboratory  to  mingle  with  the  crowd  which 
filled  the  galleries  of  Whitehall.  In  all  that 
crowd  there  was  no  man  equally  qualified  to 
render  great  and  lasting  services  to  mankind. 
But  in  all  that  crowd  there  was  not  a heart 
more  set  on  things  which  no  man  ought  to 
suffer  to  be  necessary  to  his  happiness,  on 
things  which  can  often  be  obtained  only  by  the 
sacrifice  of  integrity  and  honor.  To  be  the 
leader  of  the  human  race  in  the  career  of  im- 
provement, to  found  on  the  ruins  of  ancient  in- 
tellectual dynasties  a more  prosperous  and  a 
more  enduring  empire,  to  be  revered  by  the 
latest  generations  as  the  most  illustrious  among 
the  benefactors  of  mankind,  all  this  was  within 
his  reach.  But  all  this  availed  him  nothing 
while  some  quibbling  special  pleader  was  pro- 
moted before  him  to  the  bench,  while  some 
heavy  country  gentleman  took  precedence  of 
him  by  virtue  of  a purchased  coronet,  while 
some  pandar,  happy  in  a fair  wife,  could  ob- 
tain a more  cordial  salute  from  Buckingham, 
while  some  buffoon,  versed  in  all  the  latest 


LORD  BACON. 


61 


scandal  of  the  court,  could  draw  a louder  laugh 
from  James. 

During  a long  course  of  years,  Bacon’s  un- 
worthy ambition  was  crowned  with  success. 
His  sagacity  early  enabled  him  to  perceive  who 
was  likely  to  become  the  most  powerful  man 
in  the  kingdom.  He  probably  knew  the  King's 
mind  before  it  was  known  to  the  King  himself, 
and  attached  himself  to  Villiers,  while  the  less 
discerning  crowd  of  courtiers  still  continued  to 
fawn  on  Somerset.  The  influence  of  the 
younger  favorite  became  greater  daily.  The 
contest  between  the  rivals  might,  however, 
have  lasted  long,  but  for  that  frightful  crime 
which,  in  spite  of  all  that  could  be  effected  by 
the  research  and  ingenuity  of  historians,  is  still 
covered  with  so  mysterious  an  obscurity.  The 
descent  of  Somerset  had  been  a gradual  and 
almost  imperceptible  lapse.  It  now  became  a 
headlong  fall  ; and  Villiers,  left  without  a com- 
petitor, rapidly  rose  to  a height  of  power  such 
as  no  subject  since  Wolsev  had  attained. 

There  were  many  points  of  resemblance  be- 
tween the  two  celebrated  courtiers  who,  at  dif- 
ferent times,  extended  their  patronage  to 
Bacon.  It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  Essex  or 
Villiers  was  more  eminently  distinguished  by 
those  graces  of  person  and  manner  which  have 
always  been  rated  in  courts  at  much  more  than 
their  real  value.  Both  were  constitutionally 
brave ; and  both,  like  most  men  who  are  con- 
stitutionally brave,  were  open  and  unreserved. 
Both  were  rash  and  headstrong.  Both  were 
destitute  of  the  abilities  and  of  the  information 
which  are  necessary  to  statesmen.  Yet  both, 
trusting  to  the  accomplishment  which  had 
made  them  conspicuous  in  tilt-yards  and  ball- 
rooms, aspired  to  rule  the  state.  Both  owed 
their  elevation  to  the  personal  attachment  of 
the  sovereign ; and  in  both  cases  this  attach- 
ment was  of  so  eccentric  a kind,  that  it  per- 
plexed observers, that  it  still  continues  to  perplex 
historians,  and  that  it  gave  rise  to  much  scandal 


62 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


which  we  are  inclined  to  think  unfounded. 
Each  of  them  treated  the  sovereign  whose 
favor  lie  enjoyed  with  a rudeness  which  ap- 
proached to  insolence.  This  petulance  ruined 
Essex,  who  had  to  deal  with  a spirit  naturally 
as  proud  as  his  own,  and  accustomed,  during 
near  half  a century,  to  the  most  respectful  ob- 
servance. Tut  there  was  a wide  difference  be- 
tween the  haughty  daughter  of  Henry  and  her 
successor.  James  was  timid  from  the  cradle. 
His  nerves,  naturally  weak,  had  not  been  forti- 
fied by  reflection  or  by  habit.  His  life,  till  he 
came  to  England,  had  been  a series  of  mortifi- 
cations and  humiliations.  With  all  his  high 
notions  of  the  origin  and  extent  of  his  preroga- 
tives, he  was  never  his  own  master  for  a day. 
In  spite  of  his  kingly  title,  in  spite  of  his  despo- 
tic theories,  he  was  to  the  last  a slave  at  heart. 
Villiers  treated  him  like  one  ; and  this  course, 
though  adopted,  we  believe,  merely  from  tem- 
per, succeeded  as  well  as  if  it  had  been  a sys- 
tem of  policy  formed  after  mature  deliberaiion. 

In  generosity,  in  sensibility,  in  capacity  for 
friendship,  Essex  far  surpassed  Buckingham. 
Indeed,  Buckingham  can  scarcely  be  said  to 
have  had  any  friend,  with  the  exception  of 
the  two  princes  over  whom  successively  he 
exercised  so  wonderful  an  influence.  Essex 
was  to  the  last  adored  by  the  people.  Bucking- 
ham was  always  a most  unpopular  man,  except 
perhaps  for  a very  short  time  after  his  return 
from  the  childish  visit  to  Spain.  Essex  fell  a 
victim  to  the  rigor  of  the  government  amidst 
the  lamentations  of  the  people.  Buckingham, 
execrated  by  the  people,  and  solemnly  declared 
a public  enemy  bv  the  representative  of  the 
people,  fell  by  the  hand  of  one  of  the  people, 
and  was  lamented  by  none  but  his  master. 

The  way  in  which  the  two  favorites  acted  to- 
wards Bacon  was  highly  characteristic,  and  may 
serve  to  illustrate  the  old  and  true  saying,  that 
a man  is  generally  more  inclined  to  feel  kindly 
towards  one  on  whom  he  has  conferred  favors. 


LORD  BA  COAT. 


63 

than  towards  one  from  whom  he  has  received 
them.  Essex  loaded  Bacon  with  benefits,  and 
never  thought  that  he  had  done  enough.  It 
seems  never  to  have  crossed  the  mind  of  the 
powerful  and  wealthy  noble  that  the  poor  barris- 
terwhom  he  treated  with  such  munificent  kind 
ness  was  not  his  equal.  It  was, we  have  no  doubt, 
with  perfect  sincerity  that  the  Earl  declared 
that  he  would  willingly  give  his  sister  or 
daughter  in  marriage  to  iris  friend.  He  was  in 
general  more  than  sufficiently  sensible  of  his 
own  merits  ; but  he  did  not  seem  to  know  that 
he  had  ever  deserved  well  of  Bacon.  On  that 
cruel  day  when  they  saw  each  other  for  the  last 
time  at  the  bar  of  the  Lords,  Essex  taxed  his 
perfidious  friend  with  unkindness  and  in- 
sincerity, but  never  with  ingratitude.  Even  in 
such  a moment,  more  bitter  than  the  bitterness 
of  death,  that  noble  heart  was  too  great  to  vent 
itself  in  such  a reproach. 

Villiers,  on  the  other  hand,  owed  much  to 
Bacon.  When  their  acquaintance  began,  Sir 
Francis  was  a man  of  mature  age,  of  high  sta- 
tion, and  of  established  fame  as  a politician,  an 
advocate,  and  a writer.  Villiers  was  little  more 
than  a boy,  a younger  son  of  a house  then  of 
no  great  note.  He  was  but  just  entering  on 
the  career  of  court  favor;  and  none  but  the 
most  discerning  observers  could  as  yet  per- 
ceive that  he  was  likely  to  distance  all  his  com- 
petitors. The  countenance  and  advice  of  a 
man  so  highly  distinguished  as  the  Attornev- 
General  must  have  been  an  object  of  the  high- 
est importance  to  the  young  adventurer.  But 
though  Villiers  was  the  obliged  party,  he  was 
far  less  warmly  attached  to  Bacon,  and  far  less 
delicate  in  his  conduct  towards  Bacon,  than 
Essex  had  been. 

To  do  the  new  favorite  justice,  he  early 
exerted  his  influence  in  behalf  of  his  illustrious 
friend.  In  1616,  Sir  Francis  was  sworn  of  the 
Privy  Council,  and  in  March,  16x7,  on  the  re- 


64 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESS  A VS. 


tirement  of  Lord  Brackley,  was  appointed 
Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal. 

On  the  seventh  of  May,  the  first  day  of  term, 
he  rode  in  state  to  Westminster  Hall,  with  the 
Lord  Treasurer  on  his  right  hand,  the  Lord 
Privy  Seal  on  his  left,  a long  procession  of 
students  and  ushers  before  him,  and  a ciowd 
of  peers,  privy-councillors,  and  judges  follow- 
ing in  his  train.  Having  entered  his  court,  he 
addressed  the  splendid  auditory  in  a grave  and 
dignified  speech,  which  proves  how  well  he 
understood  those  judicial  duties  which  he  after- 
wards performed  so  ill.  Even  at  that  moment, 
the  proudest  moment  of  his  life  in  the  estima- 
tion of  the  vulgar,  and  it  may  be,  even  in  his 
own,  he  cast  back  a look  of  lingering  affection 
towards  those  noble  pursuits  from  which,  as  it 
seemed,  he  was  about  to  be  estranged.  “ The 
depth  of  the  three  long  vacations,”  said  he, 
“ 1 would  reserve  in  some  measure  free  from 
business  of  estate,  and  for  studies,  arts,  and 
sciences,  to  which  of  my  own  nature  I am  most 
inclined.” 

The  years  during  which  Bacon  held  the 
Great  Seal  were  among  the  darkest  and  most 
shameful  in  English  history.  Everything  at 
home  and  abroad  was  mismanaged.  First 
came  the  execution  of  Raleigh,  an  act  which, 
if  done  in  a proper  manner,  might  have  been 
defensible,  but  which,  under  all  the  circum- 
stances, must  be  considered  as  a dastardly 
murder.  Worse  was  behind,  the  war  of  Bo- 
hemia, the  successes  of  Tilly  and  Spinola,  the 
Palatinate  conquered,  the  King’s  son-in-law  an 
exile,  the  house  of  Austria  dominant  on  the 
Continent,  the  Protestant  religion  and  the 
liberties  of  the  Germanic  body  trodden  under 
foot.  Meanwhile,  the  wavering  and  cowardly 
policy  of  England  furnished  matter  of  ridicule 
to  all  the  nations  of  Europe.  The  love  of 
peace  which  James  professed  would,  even  when 
indulged  to  an  impolitic  excess,  have  been 
respectable,  if  it  had  proceeded  from  tender 


LORD  BACON. 


65 

ness  for  his  people.  But  the  truth  is  that, 
while  he  had  nothing  to  spare  for  the  defence 
of  the  natural  allies  of  England,  he  resorted 
without  scruple  to  the  most  illegal  and  oppres- 
sive devices,  for  the  purpose  of  enabling  Buck- 
ingham and  Buckingham’s  relations  to  outshine 
the  ancient  aristocracy  of  the  realm.  Benevo- 
lences were  exacted.  Patents  of  monopoly 
were  multiplied.  All  the  resources  which 
could  have  been  employed  to  replenish  a beg- 
gared Exchequer,  at  the  close  of  a ruinous 
war,  were  put  in  motion  during  this  season  of 
ignominious  peace. 

The  vices  of  the  administration  must  be 
chiefly  ascribed  to  the  weakness  of  the  King 
and  to  the  levity  and  violence  of  the  favorite. 
But  it  is  impossible  to  acquit  the  Lord  Keeper 
of  all  share  in  the  guilt.  For  those  odious 
patents,  in  particular,  which  passed  the  Great 
Seal  while  it  was  in  his  charge,  he  must  be 
held  answerable.  In  the  speech  which  he 
made  on  first  taking  his  seat  in  his  court,  he 
had  pledged  himself  to  discharge  this  impor- 
tant part  of  his  functions  with  the  greatest 
caution  and  impartiality.  He  had  declared 
that  he  “would  walk  in  the  light,”  “that  men 
should  see  that  no  particular  turn  or  end  led 
him,  but  a general  rule.”  Mr.  Montagu  would 
have  us  believe  that  Bacon  acted  up  to  these 
professions,  and  says  that  “the  power  of  the 
favorite  did  not  deter  the  Lord  Keeper  from 
staying  grants  and  patents  when  his  public 
duty  demanded  this  interposition.”  Does  Mr. 
Montagu  consider  patents  of  monopoly  as 
good  things  ? Or  does  he  mean  to  say  that 
Bacon  staid  every  patent  of  monopoly  that  came 
before  him  ? Of  all  patents  in  our  history,  the 
most  disgraceful  was  that  which  was  granted 
to  Sir  Giles  Mompesson,  supposed  to  be  the 
original  of  Massinger’s  Overreach,  and  to  Sir 
Francis  Michell,  from  whom  Justice  Greedy  is 
supposed  to  have  been  drawn,  for  the  exclusive 
manufacturing  of  gold  and  silver  lace.  The 


66 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


effect  of  this  monopoly  was  of  course  that  the 
metal  employed  in  the  manufacture  was  adul- 
terated to  the  great  loss  of  the  public.  But 
this  was  a trifle.  The  patentees  were  armed 
with  powers  ns  great  as  have  ever  been  given 
to  farmers  of  the  revenue  in  the  worst  governed 
countries.  They  were  authorized  to  search 
houses  and  to  arrest  interlopers;  and  these 
formidable  powers  were  used  for  purposes  viler 
than  even  those  for  which  they  were  given,  for 
the  wreaking  of  old  grudges,  and  for  the  cor- 
rupting of  female  chastity.  Was  not  this  a 
case  in  which  public  duty  demanded  the  inter- 
position of  the  Lord  Keeper  ? And  did  the 
Lord  Keeper  interpose?  He  did.  He  wrote 
to  inform  the  King,  that  he  “ had  considered 
of  the  fitness  and  conveniency  of  the  gold  and 
silver  thread  business,”  “ that  it  was  convenient 
that  it  should  be  settled,”  that  he  “did  con- 
ceive apparent  liklihood  that  it  would  redound 
much  to  his  Majesty’s  profit,”  that,  therefore, 
“ it  were  good  it  were  settled  with  all  conve- 
nient speed.”  The  meaning  of  all  this  was, 
that  certain  of  the  house  of  Villiers  were  to  go 
shares  with  Overreach  and  Greedy  in  the 
plunder  of  the  public.  This  was  the  way  in 
which,  when  the  favorite  pressed  for  patents, 
lucrative  to  his  relations  and  to  his  creatures, 
ruinous  and  vexatious  to  the  body  of  the  peo- 
ple, the  chief  guardian  of  the  laws  interposed. 
Having  assisted  the  patentees  to  obtain  this 
monopoly,  Bacon  assisted  them  also  in  the  steps 
which  they  took  for  the  purpose  of  guarding  it. 
He  committed  several  people  to  close  confine- 
ment for  disobeying  his  tyrannical  edict.  It  is 
needless  to  say  more.  Our  readers  are  now 
able  to  judge  whether,  in  the  matterof  patents, 
Bacon  acted  conformably  to  his  professions,  or 
deserved  the  praise  which  his  biographer  has 
bestowed  on  him. 

In  his  judicial  capacity  his  conduct  was  not 
less  reprehensible.  He  suffered  Buckingham 
to  dictate  many  of  his  decisions.  Bacon  knew 


LORD  BACON. 


6j 

as  well  as  any  man  that  a judge  who  listens  to 
private  solicitations  is  a disgrace  to  his  post. 
He  had  himself,  before  he  was  raised  to  the 
woolsack,  represented  this  strongly  to  Villiers, 
then  just  entering  on  his  career.  “ By  no 
means,”  said  Sir  Francis,  in  a letter  of  advice 
addressed  to  the  young  courtier,  “by  no  means 
be  you  persuaded  to  interpose  yourself,  either 
by  word  or  letter,  in  any  cause  depending  in 
any  court  of  justice,  nor  suffer  any  great  man 
to  do  it  where  you  can  hinder  it.  If  it  should 
prevail,  it  preverts  justice;  but  if  the  judge  be 
so  just  and  of  such  courage  as  he  ought  to  be, 
as  not  to  be  inclined  thereby,  yet  it  always 
leaves  a taint  of  suspicion  behind  it.”  Yet  he 
had  not  been  Lord  Keeper  a month  when 
Buckingham  began  to  interfere  in  Chancery 
suits  ; and  Buckingham’s  interference  was,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  successful. 

Mr.  Montagu’s  reflections  on  the  excellent 
passage  which  we  have  quoted  above  are  ex- 
ceedingly amusing.  “ No  man,”  says  he, 
“ more  deeply  felt  the  evils  which  then  existed 
of  the  interference  of  the  Crown  and  of  states- 
men to  influence  judges.  How  beautifully  did 
he  admonish  Buckingham,  regardless  as  he 
proved  of  all  admonition  ! ” We  should  be 
glad  to  know  how  it  can  be  expected  that 
admonition  will  be  regarded  by  him  who  re- 
ceives it,  when  it  is  altogether  neglected  by 
him  who  gives  it.  We  do  not  defend  Buck- 
ingham : but  what  was  his  guilt  to  Bacon’s  ? 
Buckingham  was  young,  ignorant,  thought- 
less, dizzy  with  the  rapidity  of  his  ascent 
and  the  height  of  his  position.  That  he 
should  be  eager  to  serve  his  relations,  his 
flatterers,  his  mistresses,  that  he  should  not 
fully  apprehend  the  immense  importance  of 
a pure  administration  of  justice,  that  he 
should  think  more  about  those  who  were  bound 
to  him  bv  private  ties  than  about  the  public  in- 
terest, all  this  was  perfectly  natural,  and  not 
altogether  unpardonable.  Those  who  intrust  a 


68 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


petulant,  hot-blooded,  ill-informed  lad  with 
power,  are  more  to  blame  than  he  for  the  mis- 
chief which  he  may  do  it.  How  could  it  be  ex- 
pected of  a lively  page,  raised  by  a wild  freak 
of  fortune  to  the  first  influence  in  the  empire, 
that  he  should  have  bestowed  any  serious 
thought  on  the  principles  which  ought  to  guide 
judicial  decisions  ? Bacon  was  the  ablest 
public  man  then  living  in  Europe.  He  was 
near  sixty  years  old.  He  had  thought  much, 
and  to  good  purpose,  on  the  general  principles 
of  law.  He  had  for  many  years  borne  a part 
daily  in  the  administration  of  justice.  It  was 
impossible  that  a man  with  a tithe  of  his  sagac- 
ity and  experience  should  not  have  known  that 
a judge  who  suffers  friends  or  patrons  to  dictate 
his  decrees  violates  the  plainest  rules  of  duty. 
In  fact,  as  we  have  seen,  he  knew  this  well  : 
he  expressed  it  admirably.  Neither  on  this 
occasion  nor  on  any  other  could  his  bad  actions 
be  attributed  to  any  defect  of  the  head.  They 
sprang  from  quite  a different  cause. 

A man  who  stooped  to  render  such  services 
to  others  was  not  likely  to  be  scrupulous  as  to 
the  means  by  which  he  enriched  himself.  He 
and  his  dependants  accepted  large  presents 
from  persons  who  were  engaged  in  Chancery 
suits.  The  amount  of  the  plunder  which  he 
collected  in  this  way  it  is  impossible  to  esti- 
mate. There  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  received 
very  much  more  than  was  proved  on  his  trial, 
though  it  may  be,  less  than  was  suspected  by 
the  public.  His  enemies  stated  his  illicit  gains 
at  a hundred  thousand  pounds.  But  this  was 
probably  an  exaggeration. 

It  was  long  before  the  day  of  reckoning  ar- 
rived. During  the  interval  between  the  second 
and  third  Parliaments  of  James,  the  nation 
was  absolutely  governed  by  the  Crown.  The 
prospects  of  the  Lord  Keeper  were  bright  and 
serene.  His  great  place  rendered  the  splendor 
of  his  talents  even  more  conspicuous,  and  gave 
an  additional  charm  to  the  serenity  of  his  tern- 


LORD  BA  COR'. 


69 

per,  the  courtesy  of  his  manners,  and  the  elo- 
quence of  his  conversation.  The  pillaged 
suitor  might  mutter.  The  austere  Puritan 
patriot  might,  in  his  retreat,  grieve  that  one  on 
whom  God  had  bestowed  without  measure  all 
the  abilities  which  qualify  men  to  take  the  lead 
in  great  reforms  should  be  found  among  the 
adherents  of  the  worst  abuses.  But  the  mur- 
murs of  the  suitor  and  the  lamentations  of  the 
patriot  had  scarcely  any  avenue  to  the  ears  of 
the  powerful.  The  King,  and  the  minister  who 
was  the  King’s  master,  smiled  on  their  illustri- 
ous flatterer.  The  whole  crowd  of  courtiers 
and  nobles  sought  his  favor  with  emulous 
eagerness.  Men  of  wit  and  learning  hailed 
with  delight  the  elevation  of  one  who  had  so 
signally  shown  that  a man  of  profound  learning 
and  of  brilliant  wit  might  understand,  far  bet- 
ter than  any  plodding  dunce,  the  art  of  thriv- 
ing in  the  world. 

Once,  and  but  once,  this  course  of  prosperity 
was  for  a moment  interrupted.  It  should  seem 
that  even  Bacon’s  brain  was  not  strong  enough 
to  bear  without  some  discomposure  the  inebriat- 
ing effect  of  so  much  good  fortune.  For  some 
time  after  his  elevation  he  showed  himself  a 
little  wanting  in  that  wariness  and  self-com- 
mand to  which,  more  than  even  to  his  tran- 
scendant  talents,  his  elevation  was  to  be  ascrib- 
ed. He  was  by  no  means  a good  hater.  The 
temperature  of  his  revenge,  like  that  of  his  grati- 
tude, was  scarcely  ever  more  than  lukewarm. 
But  there  was  one  person  whom  he  had  long 
regarded  with  an  animosity  which,  though 
studiously  suppressed,  was  perhaps  the  stronger 
for  the  suppression.  The  insults  and  injuries 
which,  when  a young  man  struggling  into  note 
and  professional  practice,  he  had  received  from 
Sir  Edward  Coke,  were  such  as  might  move  the 
most  placable  nature  to  resentment.  About 
the  time  at  which  Bacon  received  the  Seals, 
Coke  had,  on  account  of  his  contumacious  re- 
sistance to  the  royal  pleasure,  been  deprived  of 


7° 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


his  seat  in  the  Court  of  King’s  Bench,  and  had 
ever  since  languished  in  retirement.  But  Coke’s 
opposition  to  the  Court,  we  fear,  was  the  effect 
not  of  good  principles,  but  of  a bad  temper. 
Perverse  and  testy  as  he  was,  he  wanted  true 
fortitude  and  dignity  of  character.  His  obsti- 
nacy, unsupported  by  virtuous  motives,  was  not 
proof  against  disgrace.  He  solicited  a recon- 
ciliation with  the  favorite,  and  his  solicitations 
were  successful.  Sir  John  Villiers,  the  brother 
of  Buckingham,  was  looking  out  for  a rich  wife. 
Coke  had  a large  fortune  and  an  unmarried 
daughter.  A bargain  was  struck.  But  Lady 
Coke,  the  Lady  whom  twenty  years  before 
Essex  had  wooed  on  behalf  of  Bacon,  would 
not  hear  of  the  match.  A violent  and  scandal- 
ous family  quarrel  followed.  The  mother  car- 
ried the  girl  away  by  stealth.  The  father  pur- 
sued them  and  regained  possession  of  his 
daughter  by  force.  The  King  was  then  in 
Scotland,  and  Buckingham  had  attended  him 
thither.  Bacon  was,  during  their  absence,  at 
the  head  of  affairs  in  England.  He  felt  to- 
wards Coke  as  much  malevolence  as  it  was  in 
his  nature  to  feel  towards  anybody.  His  wis- 
dom had  been  laid  to  sleep  by  prosperity.  In 
an  evil  hour  lie  determined  to  interfere  in  the 
disputes  which  agitated  his  enemy’s  household. 
He  declared  for  the  wife,  countenanced  the 
Attorney-General  in  filing  an  information  in 
the  Star  Chamber  against  the  husband,  and 
wrote  letters  to  the  King  and  the  favorite 
against  the  proposed  marriage.  The  strong 
language  which  he  used  in  those  letters  shows 
that,  sagacious  as  he  was,  he  did  not  quite 
know  his  place,  and  that  he  was  not  fully  ac- 
quainted with  the  extent  either  of  Bucking- 
ham’s power,  or  of  the  change  which  the  pos- 
session of  that  power  had  produced  in  Buck- 
ingham’s character.  He  soon  had  a lesson 
which  he  never  forgot.  The  favorite  received 
the  news  of  the  Lord  Keeper’s  interference 
with  feelings  of  the  most  violent  resentment, 


LORD  BACON. 


71 


and  made  the  King  even  more  angry  than  him- 
self. Bacon’s  eyes  were  at  once  opened  to  his 
error,  and  to  all  its  possible  consequences. 
He  had  been  elated,  if  not  intoxicated,  by 
greatness.  The  shock  sobered  him  in  an  in- 
stant. He  was  all  himself  again.  He  apolo- 
gized submissively  for  his  interference.  He 
directed  the  Attorney-General  to  stop  the  pro- 
ceedings against  Coke.  He  sent  to  tell  Lady 
Coke  that  he  could  do  nothing  for  her.  He 
announced  to  both  the  families  that  he  was 
desirous  to  promote  the  connection.  Having 
given  these  proofs  of  contrition,  he  ventured 
to  present  himself  before  Buckingham.  But 
the  young  upstart  did  not  think  that  he  had 
yet  sufficiently  humbled  an  old  man  who  had 
been  his  friend  and  his  benefactor,  who  was 
the  highest  civil  functionary  in  the  realm,  and 
the  most  eminent  man  of  letters  in  the  world. 
It  is  said  that  on  two  successive  days  Bacon 
repaired  to  Buckingham’s  house,  that  on  two 
successive  days  he  was  suffered  to  remain  in 
an  antechamber  among  foot-boys,  seated  on  an 
old  wooden  box,  with  the  Great  Seal  of  Eng- 
land at  his  side,  and  that  when  at  length  he 
was  admitted,  he  flung  himself  on  the  floor, 
kissed  the  favorite’s  feet,  and  vowed  never  to 
rise  again  until  he  was  forgiven.  Sir  Anthony 
Weldon,  on  whose  authority  this  storv  rests,  is 
likely  enough  to  have  exaggerated  the  mean- 
ness of  Bacon  and  the  insolence  of  Bucking- 
ham. But  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  that  so 
circumstantial  a narrative,  written  by  a person 
who  avers  that  he  was  present  on  the  occasion 
can  be  wholly  without  foundation  ; and,  un- 
happily there  is  little  in  the  character  either  of 
the  favorite  or  of  the  Lord  Keeper  to  make  the 
narrative  improbable.  It  is  certain  that  a rec- 
onciliation took  place  on  terms  humiliating  to 
Bacon,  who  never  more  ventured  to  cross  any 
purpose  of  anybody  who  bore  the  name  of 
Yilliers.  He  put  a strong  curb  on  those  angry 
passions  which  had  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 


72 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


mastered  his  prudence.  He  went  through  the 
forms  of  a reconciliation  with  Coke,  and  did 
his  best,  by  seeking  opportunities  of  paying 
little  civilities,  and  by  avoiding  all  that  could 
produce  collision,  to  tame  the  untamable  feroc- 
ity of  his  old  enemy. 

In  the  main,  however,  Bacon’s  life,  while  he 
held  the  Great  Seal,  was,  in  outward  appear- 
ance, most  enviable.  In  London  he  lived  with 
great  dignity  at  York  House,  the  venerable 
mansion  of  his  father.  Here  it  was  that,  in 
January,  1620,  he  celebrated  his  entrance  into 
his  sixtieth  year  amidst  a splendid  circle  of 
friends.  He  had  then  exchanged  the  appella- 
tian  of  Keeper  for  the  higher  title  of  Chancel- 
lor. Ben  Jonson  was  one  of  the  party,  and 
wrote  on  the  occasion  some  of  the  happiest  of 
his  rugged  rhymes.  All  things,  he  tells  us, 
seemed  to  smile  about  the  old  house,  “ the  fire 
the  wine,  the  men.”  The  spectacle  of  the  ac- 
complished host,  after  a life  marked  by  no 
great  disaster,  entering  on  a green  old  age, 
in  the  enjoyment  of  riches,  power,  high  honors 
undiminished  mental  activity,  and  vast  literary 
reputation,  made  a strong  impression  on  the 
poet,  if  we  may  judge  from  those  well-known 
lines  : 

“ England’s  high  Chancellor,  the  destined  heir, 

In  liis  soft  cradle  to  his  father’s  chair.” 

Whose  even  thread  the  Fates  spin  round  and  full 
Out  of  their  choicest  and  their  whitest  wool.” 

In  the  intervals  of  rest  which  Bacon’s  politi- 
cal and  judicial  functions  afforded,  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  retiring  to  Gorhambury.  At  that 
place  his  business  was  literature,  and  his  favor- 
ite amusement  gardening,  which  in  one  of  his 
most  interesting  Essays  he  calls  “ the  purest 
of  human  pleasures.”  In  his  magnificent 
grounds  he  erected,  at  a cost  of  ten  thousand 
pounds,  a retreat  to  which  he  repaired  when 
he  wished  to  avoid  all  visitors,  and  to  devote 
himself  wholly  to  stndy,  On  such  occasions,  a 


LORD  BACON. 


73 


few  young  men  of  distinguished  talents  were 
sometimes  the  companions  of  his  retirement  ; 
and  among  them  his  quick  eye  soon  discerned 
the  superior  abilities  of  Thomas  Hobbes.  It 
is  not  probable,  however,  that  he  fully  appre- 
ciated the  powers  of  his  disciple,  or  foresaw 
the  vast  influence,  both  for  good  and  for  evil, 
which  that  most  vigorous  and  acute  of  human 
intellects  was  destined  to  exercise  on  the  two 
succeeding  generations. 

In  January,  1621,  Bacon  had  reached  the 
zenith  of  his  fortunes.  He  had  just  published 
the  Novum  Organum ; and  that  extraordinary 
book  had  drawn  forth  the  warmest  expressions 
of  admiration  from  the  ablest  men  in  Europe. 
He  had  obtained  honors  of  a widely  different 
kind,  but  perhaps  not  less  valued  by  him.  He 
had  been  created  Baron  Verulam.  He  had 
subsequently  been  raised  to  the  higher  dignity 
of  Viscount  St.  Albans.  His  patent  was  drawn 
in  the  most  flattering  terms,  and  the  Prince  of 
Wales  signed  it  as  a witness.  The  ceremony 
of  investiture  wras  performed  with  great  state 
at  Theobalds,  and  Buckingham  condescended 
to  be  one  of  the  chief  actors.  Posterity  has 
felt  that  the  greatest  of  English  philosophers 
could  derive  no  accession  of  dignity  from  any 
title  which  James  could  bestow,  and,  in  defiance 
of  the  royal  letters  patent,  has  obstinately  re- 
fused to  degrade  Francis  Bacon  into  Viscount 
St.  Albans. 

In  a few  weeks  was  signally  brought  to  the 
test  the  value  of  those  objects  for  which  Bacon 
had  sullied  his  integrity,  had  resigned  his  inde- 
pendence, had  violated  the  most  sacred  obli- 
gations of  friendship  and  gratitude,  had  flatter- 
ed the  worthless,  had  persecuted  the  innocent 
had  tampered  with  judges,  had  tortured  prison- 
ers, had  plundered  suitors,  had  wasted  on  paltry 
intrigues  all  the  powers  of  the  most  exquisitely 
constructed  intellect  that  has  ever  been  be- 
stowed on  any  of  the  children  of  men.  A 
sudden  and  terrible  reverse  was  at  hand.  A 


74 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


parliament  had  been  summoned.  After  six 
years  of  silence  the  voice  of  the  nation  was 
again  to  be  heard.  Only  three  days  after  the 
pageant  which  was  performed  at  Theobalds  in 
honor  of  Bacon,  the  Houses  met. 

Want  of  money  had,  as  usual,  induced  the 
King  to  convoke  his  Parliament.  It  may  be 
doubted,  however,  whether,  if  he  or  his  minis- 
ters had  been  at  all  aware  of  the  state  of  public 
feeling,  they  would  not  have  tried  any  expedient 
or  borne  with  any  inconvenience,  rather  than 
have  ventured  to  face  the  deputies  of  a justly 
exasperated  nation.  But  they  did  not  discern 
those  times.  Indeed  almost  all  the  political 
blunders  of  James,  and  of  his  more  unfortunate 
son,  arose  from  one  great  error.  During  the 
fifty  years  which  preceded  the  Long  Parliament 
a great  and  progressive  change  was  taking 
place  in  the  public  mind.  The  nature  and  ex- 
tent of  this  change  was  not  in  the  least  under- 
stood by  either  of  the  first  two  Kings  of  the 
House  of  Stuart,  or  by  any  of  their  advisers. 
That  the  nation  became  more  and  more  dis- 
contented every  year,  that  every  House  of 
Commons  was  more  unmanageable  than  that 
which  had  preceded  it,  were  facts  which  it  was 
impossible  not  to  perceive.  But  the  Court 
could  not  understand  why  these  things  were  so. 
The  Court  could  not  see  that  the  English 
people  and  the  English  Government,  though 
they  might  once  have  been  well  suited  to  each 
other,  were  suited  to  each  other  no  longer  ; 
that  the  nation  had  outgrown  its  old  institu- 
tions, was  every  day  more  uneasy  under  them, 
was  pressing  against  them,  and  would  soon 
burst  through  them.  The  alarming  pheno- 
mena, the  existence  of  which  no  sycophant 
could  deny,  were  ascribed  to  every  cause  ex- 
cept the  true  one.  “ In  my  first  Parliament,” 
said  James,  “ I was  a novice.  In  my  next, 
there  was  a kind  of  beasts  called  undertakers,” 
and  so  forth.  In  the  third  Parliament  he  could 
hardly  be  called  a novice,  and  those  beasts, 


LORD  BACON. 


75 


the  undertakers,  did  not  exist.  Yet  his  third 
Parliament  gave  him  more  trouble  than  either 
the  first  or  the  second. 

The  Parliament  had  no  sooner  met  than  the 
House  of  Commons  proceeded,  in  a temperate 
and  respectful,  but  most  determined  manner, 
to  discuss  the  public  grievances.  Their  first 
attacks  were  directed  against  those  odious 
patents,  under  cover  of  which  Buckingham  and 
his  creatures  had  pillaged  and  oppressed  the 
nation.  The  vigor  with  which  these  proceed- 
ings were  conducted  spread  dismay  through  the 
Court.  Buckingham  thought  himself  in  danger, 
and,  in  his  alarm,  had  recourse  to  an  adviser 
who  had  lately  acquired  considerable  influence 
over  him,  Williams,  Dean  of  Westminster. 
This  person  had  already  been  of  great  use  to 
the  favorite  in  a very  delicate  matter.  Buck- 
ingham had  set  his  heart  on  marrying  Lady 
Catherine  Manners,  daughter  and  heiress  of 
the  Earl  of  Rutland.  But  the  difficulties  were 
great.  The  Earl  was  haughty  and  impracti- 
cable, and  the  young  lady  was  a Catholic. 
Williams  soothed  the  pride  of  the  father,  and 
found  arguments  which,  for  a time  at  least, 
quieted  the  conscience  of  the  daughter.  For 
these  services  he  had  been  rewarded  with  con- 
siderable preferment  in  the  Church  ; and  he 
was  now  rapidly  rising  to  the  same  place  in  the 
regard  of  Buckingham  which  had  formerly  been 
occupied  by  Bacon. 

Williams  was  one  of  those  who  are  wiser  for 
others  than  for  themselves.  His  own  public 
life  was  unfortunate,  and  was  made  unfortunate 
by  his  strange  want  of  judgment  and  self-com- 
mand at  several  important  conjunctures.  But 
the  counsel  which  he  gave  on  this  occasion 
showed  no  want  of  worldly  wisdom.  He  ad- 
vised the  favorite  to  abandon  all  thoughts  of 
defending  the  monopolies,  to  find  some  foreign 
embassy  for  his  brother  Sir  Edward,  who  was 
deeply  implicated  in  the  villanies  of  Mompes- 
son,  and  to  leave  the  other  offenders  to  the 


7 6 BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

justice  of  Parliament.  Buckingham  received 
this  advice  with  the  warmest  expressions  of 
gratitude,  and  declared  that  a load  had  been 
lifted  from  his  heart.  He  then  repaired  with 
Williams  to  the  royal  presence.  They  found 
the  King  engaged  in  earnest  consultation  with 
Prince  Charles.  The  plan  of  operations  pro- 
posed by  the  Dean  was  fully  discussed,  and 
approved  in  all  its  parts. 

The  first  victims  whom  the  Court  abandoned 
to  the  vengeance  of  the  Commons  were  Sir 
Giles  Mompesson  and  Sir  Francis  Michell. 
It  was  some  time  before  Bacon  began  to  enter- 
tain any  apprehensions.  His  talents  and  his 
address  gave  him  great  influence  in  the  house 
of  which  he  had  lately  become  a member,  as 
indeed  they  must  have  in  any  assembly.  In 
the  House  of  Commons  he  had  many  personal 
friends  and  many  warm  admirers.  But  at 
length,  about  six  weeks  after  the  meeting  of 
Parliament,  the  storm  burst. 

A committee  of  the  lower  House  had  been 
appointed  to  inquire  into  the  state  of  the 
Courts  of  Justice.  On  the  fifteenth  of  March, 
the  chairman  of  that  committee,  Sir  Robert 
Philips,  member  for  Bath,  reported  that  great 
abuses  had  been  discovered.  “ The  person,” 
said  he,  “ against  whom  these  things  are  alleged 
is  no  less  than  the  Lord  Chancellor,  a man  so 
endued  with  all  parts,  both  of  nature  and  art, 
as  that  I will  say  no  more  of  him,  being  not 
able  to  say  enough.”  Sir  Robert  then  pro- 
ceeded to  state,  in  the  most  temperate  manner, 
the  nature  of  the  charges.  A person  of  the 
name  of  Aubrey  had  a case  depending  in 
Chancery.  He  had  been  almost  ruined  by  law- 
expenses,  and  his  patience  had  been  almost 
exhausted  by  the  delays  of  the  court.  He  re- 
ceived a hint  from  some  of  the  hangers-on  of 
the  Chancellor  that  a present  of  one  hundred 
pounds  would  expedite  matters.  The  poor 
man  had  not  the  sum  required.  However; 
having  found  out  an  usurer  who  accommodated 


LORD  BACON. 


77 


him  with  it  at  high  interest,  he  carried  it  to 
York  House.  The  Chancellor  took  the  money, 
and  his  dependents  assured  the  suitor  that  all 
would  go  right.  Aubrey  was,  however,  disap- 
pointed ; for,  after  considerable  delay,  “ a kill- 
ing decree  ” was  pronounced  against  him. 
Another  suitor  of  the  name  of  Egerton  com- 
plained that  he  had  been  induced  by  two  of 
the  Chancellor’s  jackals  to  make  his  Lordship 
a present  of  four  hundred  pounds,  and  that, 
nevertheless,  he  had  not  been  able  to  obtain  a 
decree  in  his  favor.  The  evidence  to  these 
facts  was  overwhelming.  Bacon’s  friends  could 
only  entreat  the  House  to  suspend  its  judg- 
ment, and  to  send  up  the  case  to  the  Lords,  in 
a form  less  offensive  than  an  impeachment. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  March  the  King  sent 
a message  to  the  Commons,  expressing  his 
deep  regret  that  so  eminent  a person  as  the 
Chancellor  should  be  suspected  of  misconduct. 
His  Majesty  declared  that  he  had  no  wish  to 
screen  the  guilty  from  justice,  and  proposed  to 
appoint  a new  kind  of  tribunal,  consisting  of 
eighteen  commissioners,  who  might  be  chosen 
from  among  the  members  of  the  two  Houses, 
to  investigate  the  matter.  The  Commons  were 
not  disposed  to  depart  from  their  regular  course 
of  proceeding.  On  the  same  day  they  had  a 
conference  with  the  Lords,  and  delivered  in 
the  heads  of  the  accusation  against  the  Chan- 
cellor. At  this  conference  Bacon  was  not 
present.  Overwhelmed  with  shame  and  re- 
morse, and  abandoned  by  all  those  in  whom  he 
had  weakly  put  his  trust,  he  had  shut  himself 
up  in  his  chamber  from  the  eyes  of  men.  The 
dejection  of  his  mind  soon  disordered  his 
body.  Buckingham,  who  visited  him  by  the 
King’s  order,  “ found  his  Lordship  very  sick 
and  heavy.”  It  appears  from  a pathetic  letter 
which  the  unhappy  man  addressed  to  the  Peers 
on  the  day  of  the  conference,  that  he  neither 
expected  nor  wished  to  survive  his  disgrace. 
During  several  days  he  remained  in  his  bed, 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


jrS 

refusing  to  see  any  human  being.  He  passion- 
ately told  his  attendants  to  leave  him,  to  for- 
get him,  never  again  to  name  his  name,  never 
to  remember  that  there  had  been  such  a man 
in  the  world.  In  the  mean  time,  fresh  in- 
stances of  corruption  were  every  day  brought 
to  the  knowledge  of  his  accusers.  The  number 
of  charges  rapidly  increased  from  two  to 
twenty-three.  The  Lords  entered  on  the  in- 
vestigation of  the  case  with  laudable  alacrity. 
Some  witnesses  were  examined  at  the  bar  of 
the  House.  A select  committee  was  appointed 
to  take  the  depositions  of  others;  and  the  in- 
quiry was  rapidly  proceeding,  when,  on  the 
twenty-sixth  day  of  March,  the  King  adjourned 
the  Parliament  for  three  weeks. 

This  measure  revived  Bacon’s  hopes.  He 
make  the  most  of  his  short  respite.  He  at- 
tempted to  work  on  the  feeble  mind  of  the 
King.  He  appealed  to  all  the  strongest  feel- 
ings of  James,  to  his  fears,  to  his  vanity,  to  his 
high  notions  of  prerogative.  Would  the  Solo- 
mon of  the  age  commit  so  gross  an  error  as  to 
encourage  the  encroaching  spirit  of  Parliament  ? 
Would  God’s  anointed,  accountable  to  God 
alone,  pay  homage  to  the  clamorous  multitude  ? 
“ Those,”  exclaimed  Bacon,  “ who  now  strike 
at  the  Chancellor  will  soon  strike  at  the  Crown. 
I am  the  first  sacrifice.  I wish  I may  be  the 
last.”  But  all  his  eloquence  and  address  were 
employed  in  vain.  Indeed,  whatever  Mr.  Mon- 
tagu may  say,  we  are  firmly  convinced  that  it 
was  not  in  the  King’s  power  to  save  Bacon, 
without  having  recourse  to  measures  which 
would  have  convulsed  the  realm.  The  Crown 
had  not  sufficient  influence  over  the  Par- 
liament to  procure  an  acquittal  in  so  clear 
a case  of  guilt.  And  to  dissolve  a Parliament 
which  is  universally  allowed  to  have  been  one 
of  the  best  Parliaments  that  ever  sat,  which  had 
acted  liberally  and  respectfully  towards  the 
Sovereign,  and  which  enjoyed  in  the  highest 
degree  the  favor  of  the  people,  only  in  order  to 


LORD  £ A COAT. 


79 


Stop  a grave,  temperate,  and  constitutional  in- 
quiry into  the  personal  integrity  of  the  first 
judge  in  the  kingdom,  would  have  been  a 
measure  more  scandalous  and  absurd  than  any 
of  those  which  were  the  ruin  of  the  House  of 
Stuart.  Such  a measure,  while  it  would  have 
been  as  fatal  to  the  Chancellor’s  honor  as  a 
conviction,  would  have  endangered  the  very 
existence  of  the  monarchy.  The  King,  acting 
by  the  advice  of  Williams,  very  properly  re- 
fused to  engage  in  a dangerous  struggle  with 
his  people,  for  the  purpose  of  saving  from  legal 
condemnation  a minister  whom  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  save  from  dishonor.  He  advised  Bacon 
to  plead  guilty,  and  promised  to  do  all  in  his 
power  to  mitigate  the  punishment.  Mr.  Mon- 
tagu is  exceedingly  angry  with  James  on  this 
account.  But  though  we  are,  in  general,  very 
little  inclined  to  admire  that  Prince’s  conduct, 
we  really  think  that  his  advice  was,  under  all 
the  circumstances,  the  best  advice  that  could 
have  been  given. 

On  the  seventeenth  of  April,  the  Houses 
reassembled,  a.nd  the  Lords  resumed  their  in- 
quiries into  the  abuses  of  the  Court  of  Chan- 
cery. On  the  twenty-second,  Bacon  addressed 
the  Peers  a letter,  which  the  Prince  of  Wales 
to  condescended  to  deliver.  In  this  artful  and 
pathetic  composition,  the  Chancellor  acknow- 
ledged his  guilt  in  guarded  and  general  terms, 
land,  while  acknowledging,  endeavored  to 
paliate  it.  This,  however,  was  not  thought 
sufficient  by  his  judges.  They  required  a more 
particular  confession,  and  sent  him  a copy  of 
the  charges.  On  the  thirtieth,  he  delivered  a 
paper,  in  which  he  admitted,  with  a few  and 
unimportant  reservations,  the  truth  of  the  ac- 
cusations brought  against  him,  and  threw  him- 
self entirely  on  the  mercy  of  his  peers.  “ Upon 
advised  consideration  of  the  charges,”  said  he, 
“ descending  into  my  own  conscience,  and 
calling  my  memory  to  account  so  far  as 
I am  able,  I do  plainly  and  ingenuously  con- 


8o 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


fess  that  I am  guilty  of  corruption,  and  do  re- 
nounce all  defence.” 

The  Lords  came  to  a resolution  that  the 
Chancellor’s  confession  appeared  to  be  full 
and  ingenuous,  and  sent  a committee  to  inquire 
of  him  whether  it  was  really  subscribed  by 
himself.  The  deputies,  among  whom  was 
Southampton,  the  common  friend,  many  years 
before,  of  Bacon  and  Essex,  performed  their 
duty  with  great  delicacy.  Indeed  the  agonies 
of  such  a mind  and  the  degradation  of  such  a 
name  might  well  have  softened  the  most  obdu- 
rate natures.  “ My  Lords,”  said  Bacon,  “it  is  my 
act,  my  hand,  my  heart.  I beseech  you  Lord- 
ships  to  be  merciful  to  a broken  reed.”  They 
withdrew  ; and  he  again  retired  to  his  chamber 
in  the  deepest  dejection.  The  next  day,  the 
sergeant-at-arms  and  the  usher  of  the  House  of 
Lords  came  to  conduct  him  to  Westminster 
Hall,  where  sentence  was  to  be  pronounced. 
But  they  found  him  so  unwell  that  he  could 
not  leave  his  bed ; and  this  excuse  for  his 
absence  was  readily  accepted.  In  no  quarter 
does  there  appear  to  have  beeij  the  smallest 
desire  to  add  to  his  humiliation. 

The  sentence  was,  however,  severe,  the  more 
severe,  no  doubt,  because  the  Lords  knew  that 
it  would  not  be  executed,  and  that  they  had  an 
excellent  opportunity  of  exhibiting,  at  small 
cost,  the  inflexibility  of  their  justice,  and  their 
abhorrence  of  corruption.  Bacon  was  con- 
demned to  pay  a fine  of  forty  thousand  pounds, 
and  to  be  imprisoned  in  the  Tower  during  the 
King’s  pleasure.  He  was  declared  incapable  of 
holding  any  office  in  the  State,  or  of  sitting  in 
Parliament ; and  he  was  banished  for  life  from 
the  verge  of  the  Court.  In  such  misery  and 
shame  ended  that  long  career  of  worldly  wis- 
dom and  worldly  prosperity. 

Even  at  this  pass  Mr.  Montagu  does  not 
desert  his  hero.  He  seems  indeed  to  think 
that  the  attachment  of  an  editor  ought  to  be 
be  as  devoted  as  that  of  Mr.  Moore’s  lovers  ; 


LORD  BACON.  81 

and  cannot  conceive  what  biography  was  made 
for, 

“ if  tis  not  the  same 

Through  joy  and  through  torment,  through  glory 
and  shame.” 

He  assures  us  that  Bacon  was  innocent,  that 
he  had  the  means  of  making  a perfectly  satis- 
factory defence,  that  when  he  “ plainly  and 
ingenuously  confessed  that  he  was  guilty  of 
corruption,”  and  when  he  afterwards  solemnly 
affirmed  that  his  confession  was  “ his  act,  his 
hand,  his  heart,”  he  was  telling  a great  lie,  and 
that  he  refrained  from  bringing  forward  proofs 
of  his  innocence,  because  he  durst  not  disobey 
the  King  and  the  favorite,  who,  for  his  own 
selfish  objects,  pressed  him  to  plead  guilty. 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  there  is  not  the 
smallest  reason  to  believe  that,  if  James  and 
Buckingham  had  thought  that  Bacon  had 
a good  defence,  they  would  have  prevented 
him  from  making  it.  What  conceivable  motive 
had  they  for  doing  so  ? Mr.  Montagu  perpetu- 
ally repeats  that  it  was  their  interest  to  sacri- 
fice Bacon.  But  he  overlooks  an  obvious 
distinction.  It  was  their  interest  to  sacrifice 
Bacon  on  the  supposition  of  his  guilt ; but 
not  on  the  supposition  of  his  innocence.  James 
was  very  properly  unwilling  to  run  the  risk  of 
protecting  his  Chancellor  against  the  Parlia- 
ment. But  if  the  Chancellor  had  been  able, 
by  force  of  argument,  to  obtain  an  acquittal 
from  the  Parliament,  we  have  no  doubt  that 
both  the  King  and  Villiers  would  have  heart- 
ily rejoiced.  They  would  have  rejoiced,  not 
merely  on  account  of  their  friendship  for  Bacon 
which  seems,  however,  to  have  been  as  sincere 
as  most  friendships  of  that  sort,  but  on  selfish 
grounds.  Nothing  could  have  strengthened 
the  government  more  than  such  a victory.  The 
King  and  the  favorite  abandoned  the  Chan- 
cellor because  they  were  unable  to  avert  his 
disgrace,  and  unwilling  to  share  it.  Mr.  Mon- 
tagu mistakes  effect  for  cause.  He  thinks 


82 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  YS. 


that  Bacon  did  not  prove  his  innocence,  be- 
cause he  was  not  supported  by  the  Court.  The 
truth  evidently  is  that  the  Court  did  not  ven- 
ture to  support  Bacon,  because  he  could  not 
prove  his  innocence. 

Again,  it  seems  strange  that  Mr.  Montagu 
should  not  perceive  that,  while  attempting  to 
vindicate  Bacon’s  reputation,  he  is  really  cast- 
ing on  in  the  foulest  of  all  aspersions.  He 
imputes  to  his  idol  a degree  of  meanness  and 
depravity  more  loathsome  than  judicial  corrup- 
tion itself.  A corrupt  judge  may  have  many 
good  qualities.  But  a man  who,  to  please  a 
powerful  patron,  solemnly  declares  himself 
guilty  of  corruption  when  he  knows  himself  to 
be  innocent,  must  be  a master  of  servility  and 
impudence.  Bacon  was,  to  say  nothing  of  his 
highest  claims  to  respect,  a gentleman,  a noble- 
man, a scholar,  a statesman,  a man  of  the  first 
consideration  in  society,  a man  far  advanced  in 
years.  Is  it  possible  to  believe  that  such  a 
man  would,  to  gratify  any  human  being,  irre- 
parably ruin  his  own  character  by  his  own  act  ? 
Imagine  a gray-headed  judge,  full  of  years  and 
honors,  owning  with  tears,  with  pathetic  assur- 
ance of  his  penitence  and  of  his  sincerity,  that 
he  has  been  guilty  of  shameful  malpractices,  re- 
peatedly asseverating  the  truth  of  his  confes- 
sion, subscribing  it  with  his  own  hand,  submit- 
ting to  conviction,  receiving  a humiliating  sent- 
ence and  acknowledging  its  justice,  and  all 
this  when  he  has  it  in  his  power  to  show  that 
his  conduct  has  been  irreproachable  ! The  thing 
is  incredible.  But  if  we  admit  it  to  be  true, 
what  must  we  think  of  such  a man,  if  indeed 
he  deserves  the  name  of  man,  who  thinks  any 
thing  that  kings  and  minions  can  bestow  more 
precious  than  honor,  or  anything  that  they  can 
inflict  more  terrible  than  infamy? 

Of  this  most  disgraceful  imputation  we  fully 
acquit  Bacon.  He  had  no  defence  ; and  Mr. 
Montagu’s  affectionate  attempt  to  make  a 
defence  for  him  has  altogether  failed. 


LORD  BACON. 


83 

The  grounds  on  which  Mr.  Montagu  rests 
the  case  are  two  ; the  first,  that  the  taking  of 
presents  was  usual,  and,  what  he  seems  to  con- 
sider as  the  same  thing,  not  discreditable  ; the 
second,  that  these  presents  were  not  taken  as 
bribes. 

Mr.  Montagu  brings  forward  many  facts  in 
support  of  his  first  proposition,  He  is  not 
content  with  showing  that  many  English  judges 
formerly  received  gifts  from  suitors,  but  collects 
similar  instances  from  foreign  nations  and 
ancient  times.  He  goes  back  to  the  common- 
wealths of  Greece,  and  attempts  to  press  into 
his  service  a line  of  Homer  and  a sentence  of 
Plutarch,  which,  we  fear,  will  hardly  serve  his 
turn.  The  gold  of  which  Homer  speaks  was 
not  intended  to  fee  the  judges,  but  was  paid 
into  court  for  the  benefit  of  the  successful 
litigant ; and  the  gratuities  which  Pericles,  as 
Plutarch  states,  distributed  among  the  members 
of  the  Athenian  tribunals,  were  legal  wages 
paid  out  of  the  public  revenue.  We  can  supply 
Mr.  Montagu  with  passages  much  more  in  point. 
Hesiod,  who  like  poor  Aubrey,  had  a “ killing 
decree-’  made  against  him  in  the  Chancery  of 
Ascra,  forgot  decorum  so  far  that  he  ventured 
to  designate  the  learned  persons  who  presided 
in  that  court,  as  ySdcnAya?  Sw/o^djovs.  Plu- 
tarch and  Diodorous  have  handed  down  to 
the  latest  ages  the  respectable  name  of  Anvtus, 
the  son  of  Anthemion,  the  first  defendant  who, 
eluding  all  the  safeguards  which  the  ingenuity 
of  Solon  could  devise,  succeeded  in  corrupting 
a bench  of  Athenian  judges.  We  are  indeed 
so  far  from  grudging  Mr.  Montagu  the  aid  of 
Greece,  that  we  will  give  him  Rome  into  the 
bargain.  We  acknowledge  that  the  honorable 
senators  who  tried  Verres  received  presents 
which  were  worth  more  than  the  fee-simple  of 
York  House  and  Gorhambury  together,  and  that 
the  no  less  honorable  senators  and  knights  who 
professed  to  believe  in  the  alibi  of  Clodius 
obtained  marks  still  more  extraordinary  of  the 


84 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


esteem  and  gratitude  of  the  defendant.  In 
short,  we  are  ready  to  admit  that,  before 
Bacon’s  time,  and  in  Bacon’s  time,  judges 
were  in  the  habit  of  receiving  gifts  from 
suitors. 

But  is  this  a defence  ? We  think  not.  The 
robberies  of  Cacus  and  Barabbas  are  no  apology 
for  those  of  Turpin.  The  conduct  of  the  two 
men  of  Belial  who  swore  away  the  life  of 
Naboth  has  never  been  cited  as  an  excuse  for 
the  perjuries  of  Oates  and  Dangerfield.  Mr. 
Montagu  has  confounded  two  things  which  it 
is  necessary  carefully  to  distinguish  from  each 
other,  if  we  wish  to  form  a correct  judgment  of 
the  characters  of  men  of  other  countries  and 
other  times.  That  an  immoral  action  is,  in  a 
particular  society,  generally  considered  as  in- 
nocent, is  a good  plea  for  an  individual  who, 
being  one  of  that  society,  and  having  adopted 
the  notions  which  prevail  among  his  neighbors, 
commits  that  action.  But  the  circumstance 
that  a great  many  people  are  in  the  habit  of 
committing  immoral  actions  is  no  plea  at  all. 
We  should  think  it  unjust  to  call  St.  Louis  a 
wicked  man,  because  in  an  age  in  which  tolera- 
tion was  generally  regarded  as  a sin,  he  per- 
secuted heretics.  We  should  think  it  unjust 
to  call  Cowper’s  friend,  John  Newton,  a 
Hypocrite  and  monster,  because  at  a time 
when  the  slave-trade  was  commonly  consider- 
ed by  the  most  respectable  people  as  an 
innocent  and  beneficial  traffic,  he  went 
largely  provided  with  hymn-books  and  hand- 
cuffs on  a Guinea  voyage.  But  the  circumstance 
that  there  are  twenty  thousand  thieves  in  Lon- 
don, is  no  excuse  for  a fellow  who  is  caught 
breaking  into  a shop.  No  man  is  to  be  blamed 
for  not  making  discoveries  in  morality,  for  not 
finding  out  that  something  which  everybody 
else  thinks  to  be  good  is  really  bad.  But,  if  a 
man  does  that  which  he  and  all  around  him 
know  to  be  bad,  it  is  no  excuse  for  him  the 
many  others  have  done  the  same.  We  should 


LORD  BACON 


H 

be  ashamed  of  spending  so  much  time  in  point- 
ing out  so  clear  a distinction,  but  that  Mr. 
Montagu  seems  altogether  to  overlook  it. 

Now  to  apply  these  principles  to  the  case 
before  us : let  Mr.  Montagu  prove  that,  in 
Bacon’s  age,  the  practices  for  which  Bacon 
was  punished  were  generally  considered  as  in- 
nocent ; and  we  admit  that  he  has  made  out 
his  point.  But  this  we  defy  him  to  do.  That 
these  practices  were  common  we  admit.  But 
they  were  common  just  as  all  wickedness  to 
which  there  is  strong  temptation  always  was 
and  always  will  be  common.  They  were  com- 
mon just  as  theft,  cheating,  perjury,  adultery 
have  always  been  common.  They  were  com- 
mon, not  because  people  did  not  know  what 
was  right,  but  because  people  liked  to  do  what 
was  wrong.  They  were  common,  though  pro- 
hibited by  law.  They  were  common,  though 
condemned  by  public  opinion.  They  were 
common,  because  in  that  age  law  and  public 
opinion  united  had  not  sufficient  force  to 
restrain  the  greediness  of  powerful  and  unprin- 
cipled magistrates.  They  were  common,  as 
every  crime  will  be  common  when  the  gain  to 
which  it  leads  is  great,  and  the  chance  of  pun- 
ishment small.  But,  though  common,  they 
were  universally  allowed  to  be  altogether 
unjustifiable  ; they  were  in  the  highest  degree 
odious  ; and,  though  many  were  guilty  of  them, 
none  had  the  audacity  publicly  to  avow  and 
defend  them. 

We  could  give  a thousand  proofs  that  the 
opinion  then  entertained  concerning  these 
practices  was  such  as  we  have  described.  But 
we  will  content  ourselves  with  calling  a single 
witness,  honest  Hugh  Latimer.  His  sermons, 
preached  more  than  seventy  years  before  the 
inquiry  into  Bacon’s  conduct,  abound  with  the 
sharpest  invectives  against  those  very  practices 
of  which  Bacon  was  guilty,  and  which,  as  Mr. 
Montagu  seems  to  think,  nobody  ever  con- 
sidered as  blamable  till  Bacon  was  punished 


86 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


for  them.  We  could  easily  fill  twenty  pages 
with  the  homely,  but  just  and  forcible  rhetoric 
of  the  brave  old  bishop.  We  shall  select  a few 
passages  as  fair  specimens,  and  no  more  than 
fair  specimens  of  the  rest.  “ Omnes  diligimt 
munera.  They  all  love  bribes.  Bribery  is  a 
princely  kind  of  thieving.  They  will  be  waged 
by  the  rich,  either  to  give  sentence  against  the 
poor,  or  to  put  off  the  poor  man’s  cause.  This 
is  the  noble  theft  of  princes  and  magistrates. 
They  are  bribe-takers.  Nowadays  they  call 
them  gentle  rewards.  Let  them  leave  their 
coloring,  and  call  them  by  their  Christian 
name — bribes.”  And  again  : “ Cambyses  was 
a great  emperor,  such  another  as  our  master 
is.  He  had  many  lord  deputies,  lord  presi- 
dents, and  lieutenants  under  him.  It  is  a 
great  while  ago  since  I read  the  history.  It 
chanced  he  had  under  him  in  one  of  his  do- 
minions a briber,  a gift-taker,  a gratifier  of 
rich  men  ; he  followed  gifts  as  fast  as  he  that 
followed  the  pudding,  a handmaker  in  his  office 
to  make  his  son  a great  man,  as  the  old  saying 
is  : Happy  is  the  child  whose  father  goeth  to 
the  devil.  The  cry  of  the  poor  widow  came  to 
the  emperor’s  ear,  and  caused  him  to  ffay  the 
judge  quick,  and  laid  his  skin  in  the  chair  of 
judgment,  that  all  judges  that  should  give 
judgment  afterwards  should  sit  in  the  same 
skin.  Surely  it  was  a goodly  sign,  a goodly 
monument,  the  sign  of  the  judge’s  skin.  I pray 
God  we  may  once  see  the  skin  in  England.” 
“ I am  sure,”  says  he  in  another  sermon,  “this 
is  scala  infenii,  the  right  way  to  hell,  to  be 
covetous,  to  take  bribes,  and  pervert  justice. 
If  a judge  should  ask  me  the  way  to  hell,  I 
would  show  him  this  way.  First,  let  him  be  a 
covetous  man  ; let  his  heart  be  poisoned  with 
covetousness.  Then  let  him  go  a little  further 
and  take  bribes ; and,  lastly,  pervert  judg- 
ment. Lo,  here  is  the  mother,  and  the  daugh- 
ter, and  the  daughter’s  daughter.  Avarice  is 
the  mother ; she  brings  forth  bribe-taking,  and 


LORD  BACON. 


87 

bribe-taking  perverting  of  judgment.  There 
lacks  a fourth  thing  to  make  up  the  mess,  which, 
so  help  me  God,  if  I were  to  judge,  should  be 
hangum  tuum,  a Tyburn  tippet  to  take  with 
him ; an  it  were  the  judge  of  the  King’s 
Bench,  my  Lord  Chief  Judge  of  England,  yea, 
an  it  were  my  Lord  Chancellor  himself,  to  Ty- 
burn with  him.”  We  will  quote  but  one  more 
passage.  “ He  that  took  the  silver  basin  and 
ewer  for  a bribe,  thinketh  that  it  will  never 
come  out.  But  he  may  now  know  that  I know 
it,  and  I know  it  not  alone  ; there  be  more  be- 
side me  that  know  it.  Oh,  briber  and  bribery  ! 
He  was  never  a good  man  that  will  so  take 
bribes.  Nor  can  I believe  that  he  that  is  a 
briber  will  be  a good  justice.  It  will  never  be 
merry  in  England  till  we  have  the  skins  of  such. 
For  what  needeth  bribing  where  men  do  their 
things  uprightly  ? ” 

This  was  not  the  language  of  a great  philoso- 
pher who  had  made  new  discoveries  in  moral 
and  political  science.  It  was  the  plain  talk  of 
a plain  man,  who  sprang  from  the  body  of  the 
people,  who  sympathized  strongly  with  their 
wants  and  their  feelings,  and  who  boldly 
uttered  their  opinions.  It  was  on  account  of 
the  fearless  way  in  which  stout-hearted  old 
Hugh  exposed  the  misdeeds  of  men  in  ermine 
tippets  and  gold  collars,  that  the  Londoners 
cheered  him,  as  he  walked  down  the  Strand  to 
preach  at  Whitehall,  struggled  for  a touch  of 
his  gown,  and  bawled,  “ Have  at  them,  Father 
Latimer.”  It  is  plain,  from  the  passages 
which  we  have  quoted,  and  from  fifty  others 
which  we  might  quote,  that,  long  before  Bacon 
was  born,  the  accepting  of  presents  by  a judge 
was  known  to  be  a wicked  and  shameful  act, 
that  the  fine  words  under  which  it  was  the 
fashion  to  veil  such  corrupt  practices  were  even 
then  seen  through  by  the  common  people,  that 
the  distinction  on  which  Mr.  Montagu  insists 
between  compliments  and  bribes  was  even  then 
laughed  at  as  a mere  coloring.  There  may  be 


88 


P TOG  RAP  NIC' A L RSSA  VS. 


some  oratorical  exaggeration  in  what  Latimer 
says  about  the  Tyburn  tippet  and  the  sign  of 
the  judge’s  skin  ; but  the  fact  that  he  ventured 
to  use  such  expressions  is  amply  sufficient  to 
prove  that  the  gift-taking  judges,  the  receivers 
of  silver  basins  and  ewers,  were  regarded  as 
such  pests  of  the  commonwealth  that  a vener- 
able divine  might,  without  any  breach  of 
Christian  charity,  publicly  pray  to  God  for  their 
detection  and  their  condign  punishment. 

Mr.  Montagu  tells  us,  most  justly,  that  we 
ought  not  to  transfer  the  opinions  of  our  age  to 
a former  age.  But  he  has  himself  committed 
a greater  error  than  that  against  which  he  has 
cautioned  his  readers.  Without  any  evidence, 
nay,  in  the  face  of  the  strongest  evidence,  he 
ascribes  to  the  people  of  a former  age  a set  of 
opinions  which  no  people  ever  held.  But  any 
hypothesis  is  in  his  view  more  probable  than 
that  Bacon  should  have  been  a dishonest  man. 
We  firmly  believe  that,  if  papers  were  to  be  dis- 
covered which  should  irresistibly  prove  that 
Bacon  was  concerned  in  the  poisoning  of  Sir 
Thomas  Overbury,  Mr.  Montagu  would  tell  us 
that,  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, it  was  not  thought  improper  in  a man  to 
put  arsenic  into  the  broth  of  his  friends,  and 
that  we  ought  to  blame,  not  Bacon,  but  the  age 
in  which  he  lived. 

But  why  should  we  have  recourse  to  any 
other  evidence,  when  the  proceedings  against 
Lord  Bacon  is  itself  the  best  evidence  on  the 
subject  ? When  Mr.  Montagu  tells  us  that  we 
ought  not  to  transfer  the  opinions  of  our  age 
to  Bacon’s  age  he  appears  altogether  to  forget 
that  it  was  by  men  of  Bacon’s  own  age  that 
Bacon  was  prosecuted,  tried,  convicted,  and 
sentenced.  Did  not  they  know  what  their  owm 
opinions  were  ? Did  not  they  know  whether 
they  thought  the  taking  of  gifts  by  a judge  a 
crime  or  not?  Mr.  Montague  complains 
bitterly  that  Bacon  was  induced  to  abstain 
from  making  a defence.  But,  if  Bacon’s 


LORD  dacoa: 


89 

defence  resembled  that  which  is  made  for  him 
in  the  volume  before  us,  it  would  have  been  un- 
necessary to  trouble  the  Houses  with  it.  The 
Lords  and  Commons  did  not  want  Bacon  to  tell 
them  the  thoughts  of  their  own  hearts,  to  inform 
them  that  they  did  not  consider  such  practices 
as  those  in  which  they  had  detected  him  as  at 
all  culpable.  Mr.  Montagu’s  proposition  may 
indeed  be  fairly  stated  thus  : — It  was  very  hard 
that  Bacon’s  contemporaries  should  think  it 
wrong  in  him  to  do  what  they  did  not  think  it 
wrong  in  him  to  do.  Hard  indeed  ; and  withal 
somewhat  improbable.  Will  any  person  say 
that  the  Commons  who  impeached  Bacon  for 
taking  presents,  and  the  Lords  who  sentenced 
him  to  fine,  imprisonment,  and  degradation  for 
taking  presents,  did  not  know  that  the  taking 
of  presents,  was  a crime  ? Or,  will  any  person 
say  that  Bacon  did  not  know  what  the  whole 
House  of  Commons  and  the  whole  House  of 
Lords  knew?  Nobody  who  is  not  prepared  to 
maintain  one  of  these  absurd  propositions  can 
deny  that  Bacon  committed  what  he  knew  to  be 
a crime. 

It  cannot  be  pretended  that  the  Houses 
were  seeking  occasion  to  ruin  Bacon,  and  that 
they  therefore  brought  him  to  punishment  on 
charges  which  they  themselves  knew  to  be 
frivolous.  In  no  quarter  was  there  the  faintest 
indication  of  a disposition  to  treat  him  harshly. 
Through  the  whole  proceeding  there  was  no 
symptom  of  personal  animosity  or  of  factious 
violence  in  either  House.  Indeed,  we  will 
venture  to  say  that  no  State-Trial  in  our  history 
is  more  creditable  to  all  who  took  part  in  it, 
either  as  prosecutors  or  judges.  The  decency, 
the  gravity,  the  public  spirit,  the  justice 
moderated  but  not  unnerved  by  compassion, 
which  appeared  in  every  part  of  the  transac- 
tion, would  do  honor  to  the  most  respectable 
public  men  in  our  own  times.  The  accusers, 
while  they  discharged  their  duty  to  their  con- 
stituents by  bringing  the  misdeeds  of  the  Chan- 


9° 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


cellor  to  light,  spoke  with  admiration  of  his 
many  eminent  qualities.  The  Lords,  while 
condemning  him,  complimented  him  on  the 
ingenuousness  of  his  confession,  and  spared 
him  the  humiliation  of  a public  appearance  at 
their  bar.  So  strong  was  the  contagion  of  good 
feeling  that  even  Sir  Edward  Coke,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  behaved  like  a gentleman.  No 
criminal  ever  had  more  temperate  prosecutors 
than  Bacon.  No  criminal  ever  had  more 
favorable  judges.  If  he  was  convicted,  it  was 
because  it  was  impossible  to  acquit  him  with- 
out offering  the  grossest  outrage  to  justice  and 
common  sense. 

Mr.  Montagu’s  other  argument,  namely,  that 
Bacon,  though  he  took  gifts,  did  not  take  bribes, 
seems  to  us  as  futile  as  that  which  we  have 
considered.  Indeed,  we  might  be  content  to 
leave  it  to  be  answered  by  the  plainest  man 
among  our  readers.  Demosthenes  noticed  it 
with  contempt  more  than  two  thousand  years 
ago.  Latimer,  we  have  seen,  treated  this  soph- 
istry with  similar  disdain.  “ Leave  color- 
ing,” said  he,  “ and  call  these  things  by  their 
Christian  name,  bribes.”  Mr.  Montagu  at- 
tempts, somewhat  unfairly,  we  must  say,  to 
represent  the  presents  which  Bacon  received  as 
similar  to  the  perquisites  which  suitors  paid  to 
the  members  of  the  Parliaments  of  France. 
The  French  magistrate  had  a legal  right  to  his 
fee  ; and  the  amount  of  the  fee  was  regulated 
by  law.  Whether  this  be  a good  mode  of  re- 
munerating judges  is  not  the  question.  But 
what  analogy  is  there  between  payments  of  this 
sort  and  the  presents  which  Bacon  received, 
presents  which  were  not  sanctioned  by  the  law, 
which  were  not  made  under  the  public  eye, 
and  of  which  the  amount  was  regulated  only 
by  private  bargain  between  the  magistrate  and 
the  suitor  ? 

Again,  it  is  mere  trifling  to  say  that  Bacon 
could  not  have  meant  to  act  corruptly  because 
he  employed  the  agency  of  men  of  rank,  of 


LORD  BACON. 


91 


bishops,  privy  councillors,  and  members  of 
Parliament  ; as  if  the  whole  history  of  that 
generation  was  not  full  of  the  low  actions  of 
high  people  ; as  if  it  was  not  notorious  that 
men,  as  exalted  in  rank  as  any  of  the  decoys 
that  Bacon  employed,  had  pimped  for  Somerset 
and  poisoned  Overbury. 

But,  says  Mr.  Montagu,  these  presents  “ were 
made  openly  and  with  the  greatest  publicity.” 
This  would  indeed  be  a strong  argument  in 
favor  of  Bacon.  But  we  deny  the  fact.  In 
one,  and  one  only,  of  the  cases  in  which  Bacon 
was  accused  of  corruptly  receiving  gifts,  does 
he  appear  to  have  received  a gift  publicly. 
This  was  in  a matter  depending  between  the 
Company  of  Apothecaries  and  the  Company  of 
Grocers.  Bacon,  in  his  Confession,  insisted 
strongly  on  the  circumstance  that  he  had  on 
this  occasion  taken  a present  publicly,  as  a 
proof  that  he  had  not  taken  it  corruptly.  Is  it 
not  clear,  that,  if  he  had  taken  the  presents 
mentioned  in  the  other  charges  in  the  same 
public  manner,  he  would  have  dwelt  on  this 
point  in  his  answer  to  those  charges  ? The 
fact  that  he  insists  so  strongly  on  the  publicity 
of  one  particular  present  is  of  itself  sufficient 
to  prove  that  the  other  presents  were  not  pub- 
licly taken.  Why  he  took  this  present  publicly 
and  the  rest  secretly,  is  evident.  He  on  that 
occasion  acted  openly,  because  he  was  acting 
honestly.  He  was  not  on  that  occasion  sitting 
judicially.  He  was  called  in  to  effect  an 
amicable  arrangement  between  two  parties. 
Both  were  satisfied  with  his  decision.  Both 
joined  in  making  him  a present  in  return  for 
his  trouble.  Whether  it  was  quite  delicate  in 
a man  of  his  rank  to  accept  a present  under 
such  circumstances,  may  be  questioned.  But 
there  is  no  ground  in  this  case  for  accusing  him 
of  corruption. 

Unhappily,  the  very  circumstances  which 
prove  him  to  have  been  innocent  in  this  case 
prove  him  to  have  been  guilty  on  the  other 


92 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


charges.  Once,  and  once  only,  he  alleges  that 
he  received  a present  publicly.  The  natural 
inference  is  that  in  all  the  other  cases  mention- 
ed in  the  articles  against  him  he  received 
presents  secretly.  When  we  examine  the  single 
case  in  which  he  alleges  that  he  received  a 
present  publicly,  we  find  that  it  is  also  the 
single  case  in  which  there  was  no  gross  impro- 
priety in  his  receiving  a present.  Is  it  then 
possible  to  doubt  that  his  reason  for  not  receiv- 
ing other  presents  in  as  public  a manner  was 
that  he  knew  that  it  was  wrong  to  receive 
them  ? 

One  argument  still  remains,  plausible  in  ap- 
pearance, but  admitting  of  easy  and  complete 
refutation.  The  two  chief  complainants,  Aubrey 
and  Egerton,  had  both  made  presents  to  the 
Chancellor.  But  he  had  decided  against  them 
both.  Therefore,  he  had  not  received  those 
presents  as  bribes.  “ The  complaints  of  his 
accusers  were,”  says  Mr.  Montagu,  “ not  that 
the  gratuities  had,  but  that  they  had  not  in- 
fluenced Bacon’s  judgment,  as  he  had  decided 
against  them.” 

The  truth  is,  that  it  is  precisely  in  this  way 
that  an  extensive  system  of  corruption  is  gener- 
ally detected.  A person  who,  by  a bribe,  has 
procured  a decree  in  his  favor,  is  by  no  means 
likely  to  come  forward  of  his  own  accord  as 
an  accuser.  He  is  content.  He  has  his  quid 
pro  quo.  He  is  not  impelled  either  by  inter- 
ested or  by  vindictive  motives  to  bring  the 
transaction  before  the  public.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  has  almost  as  strong  motives  for  hold- 
ing his  tongue  as  the  judge  himself  can  have. 
But  when  a judge  practices  corruption,  as  we 
fear  that  Bacon  practiced  it,  on  a large  scale, 
and  has  many  agents  looking  out  in  different 
quarters  for  prey,  it  will  sometimes  happen 
that  he  will  be  bribed  on  both  sides,  It  will 
sometimes  happen  that  he  will  receive  money 
from  suitors  who  are  so  obviously  in  the  wrong 
that  he  can  not  with  decency  do  anything  to 


LORD  BA  COM 


93 


serve  them.  Thus  he  will  now  and  then  be 
forced  to  pronounce  against  a person  from 
whom  he  has  received  a present ; and  he  makes 
that  person  a deadly  enemy.  The  hundreds 
who  have  got  what  they  paid  for  remain  quiet. 
It  is  the  two  or  three  who  have  paid,  and  have 
nothing  to  show  for  their  money,  who  are 
noisy. 

The  memorable  case  of  the  Goezmans  is  an 
example  of  this.  Beaumarchais  had  an  import- 
ant suit  depending  before  the  Parliament  of 
Paris.  M.  Goezman  was  the  judge  on  whom 
chiefly  the  decision  depended.  It  was  hinted 
to  Beaumarchais  that  Madame  Goezman  might 
be  propitiated  by  a present.  He  accordingly 
offered  a purse  of  gold  to  the  lady,  who  re- 
ceived it  graciously.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that,  if  the  decision  of  the  court  had  been 
favorable  to  him,  these  things  would  never  have 
been  known  to  the  world.  But  he  lost  his  cause. 
Almost  the  whole  sum  which  he  had  expended 
in  bribery  was  immediately  refunded  ; and 
those  who  had  disappointed  him  probably 
thought  that  he  would  not,  for  the  mere  grati- 
fication of  his  malevolence,  make  public  a trans- 
action which  was  discreditable  to  himself  as 
well  as  to  them.  They  knew  little  of  him.  He 
soon  taught  them  to  curse  the  day  in  which 
they  had  dared  to  trifle  with  a man  of  so  re- 
vengeful and  turbulent  a spirit,  of  such  daunt- 
less effrontery,  and  of  such  eminent  talents  for 
controversy  and  satire.  He  compelled  the 
Parliament  to  put  a degrading  stigma  on  M. 
Goezman.  He  drove  Madame  Goezman  to  a 
convent.  Till  it  was  too  late  to  pause,  his  ex- 
cited passions  did  not  suffer  him  to  remember 
that  he  could  effect  their  ruin  only  by  disclos- 
ures ruinous  to  himself.  We  could  give  other 
instances.  But  it  is  needless.  No  person  well 
acquainted  with  human  nature  can  fail  to  per- 
ceive that,  if  the  doctrine  for  which  Mr.  Mon- 
tagu contends,  were  admitted,  society  would  be 


94 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


deprived  of  almost  the  only  chance  which  it  has 
of  detecting  the  corrupt  practices  of  judges. 

We  return  to  our  narrative.  The  sentence 
of  Bacon  had  scarcely  been  pronounced  when 
it  was  mitigated.  He  was  indeed  sent  to  the 
Tower.  But  this  was  merely  a form.  In  two 
days  he  was  set  at  liberty,  and  soon  after  he 
retired  to  Gorhambury.  His  fine  was  speedily 
released  by  the  Crown.  He  was  next  suffered 
to  present  himself  at  Court  ; and  at  length,  in 
1624,  the  rest  of  his  punishment  was  remitted. 
He  was  now  at  liberty  to  resume  his  seat  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  and  he  was  actually  summoned 
to  the  next  Parliament.  But  age,  infirmity,  and 
perhaps  shame,  prevented  him  from  attending. 
The  Government  allowed  him  a pension  of 
twelve  hundred  pounds  a year  ; and  his  whole 
annual  income  is  estimated  by  Mr.  Montagu  at 
two  thousand  five  hundred  pounds,  a sum 
which  was  probably  above  the  average  income 
of  a nobleman  of  that  generation,  and  which 
was  certainly  sufficient  for  comfort  and  even  for 
splendor.  Unhappily,  Bacon  was  fond  of  dis- 
play, and  unused  to  pay  minute  attention  to 
domestic  affairs.  He  was  not  easily  persuaded 
to  give  up  any  part  of  the  magnificence  to 
which  he  had  been  accustomed  in  the  time  of 
his  power  and  prosperity.  No  pressure  of  dis- 
tress could  induce  him  to  part  with  the  woods 
of  Gorhambury.  “ I will  not,”  he  said,  “ be 
stripped  of  my  feathers.”  He  traveled  with  so 
splendid  an  equipage  and  so  large  a retinue 
that  Prince  Charles,  who  once  fell  in  with  him 
on  the  road,  exclaimed  with  surprise,  “ Well  ; 
do  what  we  can,  this  man  scorns  to  go  out  in 
snuff.”  This  carelessness  and  ostentation  re- 
duced Bacon  to  frequent  distress.  He  was 
under  the  necessity  of  parting  with  York 
House,  and  of  taking  up  his  residence,  during 
his  visits  to  London,  at  his  old  chambers  in 
Gray’s  Inn.  He  had  other  vexations,  the 
exact  nature  of  which  is  unknown.  It  is 
evident  from  his  will  that  some  part  of  his 


LORD  BA  COM 


95 

wife’s  conduct  had  greatly  disturbed  and  irri- 
tated him. 

But,  whatever  might  be  his  pecuniary  diffi- 
culties or  his  conjugal  discomforts,  the  powers 
of  his  intellect  still  remained  undiminished. 
Those  noble  studies  for  which  he  had  found 
leisure  in  the  midst  of  professional  drudgery 
and  of  courtly  intrigues  gave  to  this  last  sad 
stage  of  his  life  a dignity  beyond  what  power 
or  titles  could  bestow.  Impeached,  convicted, 
sentenced,  driven  with  ignominy  from  the  pres- 
ence of  his  Sovereign,  shut  out  from  the  delib- 
erations of  his  fellow  nobles,  loaded  with  debt, 
branded  with  dishonor,  sinking  under  the 
weight  of  years,  sorrows,  and  diseases,  Bacon 
was  Bacon  still.  “ My  conceit  of  his  person,” 
says  Ben  Jonson  very  finely,  “was  never  in- 
creased towards  him  by  his  place  of  honors  ; but 
I have  and  do  reverence  him  for  the  greatness 
that  was  only  proper  to  himself;  in  that  he 
seemed  to  me  ever,  by  his  work,  one  of  the 
greatest  men  and  most  worthy  of  admiration, 
that  had  been  in  many  ages.  In  his  adversity 
I ever  prayed  that  God  would  give  him 
strength  ; for  greatness  he  could  not  want.” 

The  services  which  Bacon  rendered  to  let- 
ters during  the  last  five  years  of  his  life,  amidst 
ten  thousand  distractions  and  vexations,  in- 
crease the  regret  with  which  we  think  on  the 
many  years  which  he  had  wasted,  to  use  the 
words  of  Sir  Thomas  Bodley,  “ on  such  study 
as  was  not  worthy  of  such  a student.”  He 
commenced  a Digest  of  the  Laws  of  England, 
a History  of  England  under  the  Princes  of  the 
House  of  Tudor,  a body  of  Natural  History. 
Philosophical  Romance.  He  made  extensive 
and  valuable  additions  to  his  Essays.  He  pub- 
lished the  inestimable  Treatise  De  Augmentis 
Scientiarmn.  The  very  trifles  with  which  he 
amused  himself  in  hours  of  pain  and  languor 
bore  the  mark  of  his  mind.  The  best  collec- 
tions of  jests  in  the  world  is  that  which  he  dic- 
tated from  memory  without  referring  to  any 


96  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

book,  on  a day  on  which  illness  had  rendered 
him  incapable  of  serious  study. 

The  great  apostle  of  experimental  philoso- 
phy was  destined  to  be  its  martyr.  It  had 
occurred  to  him  that  snow  might  be  used  with 
advantage  for  the  purpose  of  preventing  ani- 
mal substances  from  putrefying.  On  a very 
cold  day  early  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1626, 
he  alighted  from  his  coach  near  Highgate,  in 
order  to  try  the  experiment.  He  went  into  a 
cottage,  bought  a fowl,  and  with  his  own  hands 
stuffed  it  with  snow.  While  thus  engaged  he 
felt  a sudden  chill,  and  was  soon  so  much  in- 
disposed that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  re- 
turn to  Gray’s  Inn.  The  Earl  of  Arundel, 
with  whom  he  was  well  acquainted,  had  a 
house  at  Highgate.  To  that  house  Bacon  was 
carried.  The  Earl  was  absent ; but  the  ser- 
vants who  were  in  charge  of  the  place  showed 
great  respect  and  attention  to  the  illustrious 
guest.  Here,  after  an  illness  of  about  a week, 
he  expired  early  on  the  morning  of  Easter-day, 
1626.  His  mind  appears  to  have  retained  its 
strength  and  liveliness  to  the  end.  He  did 
not  forget  the  fowl  which  has  caused  his  death. 
In  the  last  letter  that  he  wrote,  with  fingers 
which,  as  he  said,  could  not  steadily  hold  a 
pen,  he  did  not  omit  to  mention  that  the  ex- 
periment of  the  snow  had  succeeded  “ excel- 
lently well.” 

Our  opinion  of  the  moral  character  of  this 
great  man  has  already  been  sufficiently  ex- 
plained. Had  his  life  been  passed  in  literary 
retirement,  he  would,  in  all  probability,  have 
deserved  to  be  considered,  not  only  as  a great 
philosopher,  but  as  a worthy  and  good-natured 
member  of  society.  But  neither  his  principles 
nor  his  spirits  were  such  as  could  be  trusted, 
when  strong  temptations  were  to  be  resisted, 
and  serious  dangers  to  be  braved. 

In  his  will  he  expressed  with  singular  brevity, 
energy,  dignity,  and  pathos,  a mournful  con- 
sciousness that  his  actions  had  not  been  such 


LORD  BACON. 


97 


as  to  entitle  him  to  the  esteem  of  those  under 
whose  observation  his  life  had  been  passed, 
and  at  the  same  time  a proud  confidence  that 
his  writings  had  secured  for  him  a high  and 
permanent  place  among  the  benefactors  of 
mankind.  So  at  least  we  understand  those 
striking  words  which  have  been  often  quoted, 
but  which  we  must  quote  once  more  : “ For 
my  name  and  memory,  I leave  it  to  men’s  char- 
itable speeches,  and  to  foreign  nations,  and  to 
the  next  age.” 

His  confidence  was  just.  From  the  day  of 
his  death  his  fame  has  been  constantly  and 
steadily  progressive  ; and  we  have  no  doubt 
that  his  name  will  be  named  with  reverence  to 
the  latest  ages,  and  to  the  remotest  ends  of 
the  civilized  world. 

The  chief  peculiarity  of  Bacon’s  philosophy 
seems  to  us  to  have  been  this,  that  it  aimed  at 
things  altogether  different  from  those  which 
his  predecessors  had  proposed  to  themselves. 
This  was  his  own  opinion.  “ Finis  scientiarum,” 
says  he,  “ a nemine  adhuc  bene  positus  est.”* 
And  again,  “ Omnium  gravissimus  error  in 
deviatione  ab  ultimo  doctrinarum  fine  con- 
sistit.”  f “ Nec  ipsa  meta,”  says  he  elsewhere, 
“ adhuc  ulli,  quod  sciam,  mortalium  posita  est 
et  defixa.”+  The  more  carefully  his  works  are 
examined,  the  more  clearly,  we  think,  it  will 
appear  that  this  is  the  real  clue  to  the  whole 
system,  and  that  he  used  means  different  from 
those  used  by  other  philosophers,  because  he 
wished  to  arrive  at  an  end  altogether  different 
from  theirs. 

What  then  was  the  end  which  Bacon  proposed 
to  himself  ? It  was,  to  use  his  own  emphatic  ex- 
pression, “ fruit.”  It  was  the  multiplying  of 
of  human  enjoyments  and  the  mitigating  of 
human  sufferings.  It  was  “the  relief  of  man’s 

* Novum  Organum.  Lib.  i Aph.  81. 

t De  A ug mentis,  Lib.  I. 

| Cogitata  et  visa. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  VS. 


98 

estate.”* * * §  It  was  “commodis  humanis  inser- 
vire.”  t It  was  “ efficaciter  operari  ad  suble- 
vanda  vitae  humanae  incommoda.’  | It  was 
“ dotare  vitam  human  amnovis  inventis  et 
copiis.”  § It  was  “genus  humanum  novis  oper- 
ibus  et  potestatibus  continuo  dotare.”  ||  This 
was  the  object  of  all  his  speculations  in  every 
department  of  science,  in  natural  philosophy, 
in  legislation,  in  politics  in  morals. 

Two  words  form  the  key  of  the  Baconian 
doctrine,  Utility  and  Progress.  The  ancient 
philosophy  disdained  to  be  useful,  and  was 
content  to  be  stationary.  It  dealt  largely  in 
theories  of  moral  perfection,  which  were  so 
sublime  that  they  never  could  be  more  than 
theories ; in  attempts  to  solve  insoluble 
enigmas ; in  exhortations  to  the  attainment  of 
unattainable  frames  of  mind.  It  could  not 
condescend  to  the  humble  office  of  ministering 
to  the  comfort  of  human  beings.  All  the 
schools  contemned  that  office  as  degrading ; 
some  censured  it  as  immoral.  Once  indeed 
Posidonius,  a distinguished  writer  of  the  age 
of  Cicero  and  Caesar,  so  far  forgot  himself  as 
to  enumerate,  among  the  humbler  blessings 
which  mankind  owed  to  philosophy,  the  dis- 
covery of  the  principle  of  the  arch,  and  the  in- 
troduction of  the  use  of  metals.  This  eulogy 
was  considered  as  an  affront,  and  was  taken 
up  with  proper  spirit.  Seneca  vehemently  dis- 
claims these  insulting  compliments.1T  Philoso- 
phy, according  to  him,  has  nothing  to  do  with 
teaching  men  to  rear  arched  roofs  over  their 
heads.  The  true  philosopher  does  not  care 
whether  he  has  an  arched  roof  or  any  roof. 
Philosophy  has  nothing  to  do  with  teaching 
men  the  uses  of  metals.  She  teaches  us  to  be 

* Advancement  of  learning,  Book  I 

t De  Augmentis,  Lib.  7 Cap.  I. 

J lb.  I.ib.  2 Cap.  2. 

§ Novum  Organum,  Lib.  1 Aph.  81. 

|| ' Cogitata  et  visa. 

11  Seneca,  Efist.  90. 


LORD  BACON. 


99 


independent  of  all  material  substances,  of  all 
mechanical  contrivances.  The  wise  man  lives 
according  to  nature.  Instead  of  attempting  to 
add  to  the  physical  comforts  of  his  species,  he 
regrets  that  his  lot  was  not  cast  in  that  golden 
age  when  the  human  race  had  no  protection 
against  the  cold  but  the  skins  of  wild  beasts, 
no  screen  from  the  sun  but  a cavern.  To  im- 
pute to  such  a man  any  share  in  the  invention 
or  improvement  of  a plough,  a ship,  or  a mill, 
is  an  insult.  In  my  own  time,”  says  Seneca, 
“ there  have  been  inventions  of  this  sort,  trans- 
parent windows,  tubes  for  diffusing  warmth 
equally  through  all  parts  of  a building,  short- 
hand, which  has  been  carried  to  such  a perfec- 
tion that  a writer  can  keep  pace  with  the  most 
rapid  speaker.  But  the  inventing  of  such 
things  is  drudgery  for  the  lowest  slaves  ; phil- 
osophy lies  deeper.  It  is  not  her  office  to 
teach  men  how  to  use  their  hands.  The  ob- 
ject of  her  lessons  is  to  form  the  soul.  Non 
est,  inquam.  instrumentorum  ad  uses  necessarios 
opifex If  the  non  were  left  out,  this  last  sen- 
tence would  be  no  bad  description  of  the  Ba- 
conian philosophy,  and  would,  indeed,  very 
much  resemble  several  expressions  in  the 
Novum  Organum.  “ We  shall  next  be  told,” 
exclaims  Seneca,  “ that  the  first  shoemaker  was 
a philosopher.”  For  our  own  part,  if  we  are 
forced  to  make  our  choice  between  the  first 
shoemaker,  and  the  author  of  the  three  books 
On  Anger,  we  pronounce  for  the  shoemaker. 
It  may  be  worse  to  be  angry  than  to  be  wet. 
But  shoes  have  kept  millions  from  being  wet ; 
and  we  doubt  whether  Seneca  ever  kept  any- 
body from  being  angry. 

It  is  very  reluctantly  that  Seneca  can  be 
brought  to  confess  that  any  philosopher  had 
ever  paid  the  smallest  attention  to  anything 
that  could  possibly  promote  what  vulgar  peo- 
ple would  consider  as  the  well-being  of  man- 
kind. He  labors  to  clear  Democritus  from  the 
disgraceful  imputation  of  having  made  the  first 


IOO 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


arch,  and  Anacharsis  from  the  charge  of  hav- 
ing  contrived  the  potter’s  wheel.  He  is  forced 
to  own  that  such  a thing  might  happen  ; and  it 
may  also  happen,  he  tells  us,  that  a philosopher 
may  be  swift  of  foot.  But  it  is  not  in  his  char- 
acter of  philosopher  that  he  either  wins  a race 
or  invents  a machine.  No,  to  be  sure.  The 
business  of  a philosopher  was  to  declaim  in 
praise  of  poverty,  with  two  millions  sterling  out 
at  usury,  to  meditate  epigrammatic  conceits 
about  the  evils  of  luxury,  in  gardens  which 
moved  the  envy  of  sovereigns,  to  rant  about 
liberty,  while  fawning  on  the  insolent  and  pam- 
pered freedom  of  a tyrant,  to  celebrate  the 
divine  beauty  of  virtue  with  the  same  pen 
which  had  just  before  written  a defence  of  the 
murder  of  a mother  by  a son. 

From  the  cant  of  this  philosophy,  a philoso- 
phy meanly  proud  of  its  own  unprofitableness, 
it  is  delightful  to  turn  to  the  letters  of  the  great 
English  teacher.  We  can  almost  forgive  all 
the  faults  of  Bacon’s  life  when  we  read  that 
singularly  graceful  and  dignified  passage  : 
“ Ego  certe,  ut  de  me  ipso,  quod  res  est, 
loquar,  et  in  iis  quae  nunc  edo,  et  in  iis  quae  in 
posterum  meditor,  dignitatum  ingenii  et  nom- 
inis mei,  si  qua  sit,  saepius  sciens  et  volens 
projicio,  dum  commodis  humanis  inserviam  ; 
quique  architectus  fortasse  in  philosophia  et 
et  scientiis  esse  debeam,  etiam  operarius,  et 
bajulus,  et  quidvis  demum  fio,  cum  baud  pauca 
quae  omnino  fieri  necesse  sit,  alii  autem  ob  in- 
natam  superbiam  subterfugiant,  ipse  sustineam 
et  exsequar.”  * This  philaiithropia,  which,  as 
he  said  in  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  his 
early  letters,  “ was  so  fixed  in  his  mind,  as  it 
could  not  be  removed,”  this  majestic  humility, 
this  persuasion  that  nothing  can  be  too  insig- 
nificant for  the  attention  of  the  wisest, 
which  is  not  to  insignificant  to  give  pleasure 
or  pain  to  the  meanest,  is  the  great  charac- 


* De  Augmeiitis  Lib.  7.  Cap  I. 


LORD  BACON. 


IOI 


teristic  distinction,  the  essential  spirit  of  the 
Baconian  philosophy.  We  trace  it  in  all  that 
Bacon  has  written  on  Physics,  on  Laws,  on 
Morals.  And  we  conceive  that  from  this 
peculiarity  all  the  other  peculiarities  of  his 
system  directly  and  almost  necessarily  sprang. 

The  spirit  which  appears  in  the  passage  of 
Seneca  to  which  we  have  referred,  tainted  the 
whole  body  of  the  ancient  philosophy  from  the 
time  of  Socrates  downwards,  and  took  posses- 
sion of  intellects  with  which  that  of  Seneca  can 
not  for  a moment  be  compared.  It  pervades 
the  dialogues  of  Plato.  It  may  be  distinctly 
traced  in  many  parts  of  the  works  of  Aristotle. 
Bacon  has  dropped  hints,  from  which  it  may  be 
inferred  that,  in  his  opinion,  the  prevalence  of 
this  feeling  was  in  a great  measure  to  be  at- 
tributed to  the  influence  of  Socrates.  Our 
great  countryman  evidently  did  not  consider 
the  revolution  which  Socrates  effected  in  phil- 
osophy as  a happy  event,  and  constantly  main- 
tained that  the  earlier  Greek  speculators, 
Democritus  in  particular,  were,  on  the  whole, 
superior  to  their  more  celebrated  successors.* 

Assuredly  if  the  tree  which  Socrates  planted 
and  Plato  watered  is  to  be  judged  of  by  its 
flowers  and  leaves,  it  is  the  noblest  of  trees. 
But  if  we  take  the  homely  test  of  Bacon,  if  we 
judge  of  the  tree  by  its  fruits,  our  opinion  of 
it  may  perhaps  be  less  favorable.  When  we 
sum  up  all  the  useful  truths  which  we  owe  to 
that  philosophy,  to  what  do  they  amount  ? We 
find,  indeed,  abundant  proofs  that  some  of  those 
who  cultivated  it  were  men  of  the  first  order 
of  intellect.  We  find  among  their  writings 
incomparable  specimens  both  of  dialectical  and 
rhetorical  art.  We  have  no  doubt  that  the  an- 
cient controversies  were  of  use,  in  so  far  as  they 
served  to  exercise  the  faculties  of  the  disputants; 
for  there  is  no  controversy  so  idle  that  it  may  not 

* Novum  Organum , Lib.  i.  Apb.  71.  79.  De  Aug- 
ments, Lib.  3,  Cap.  4.  De  Principiis  atque  originibus 
Qogitata  et  visa , Redargutio  phflogoph  aivunt. 


102 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


be  of  use  in  this  way.  But.  when  we  look  for 
something  more,  for  something  which  adds  to 
the  comforts  or  alleviates  the  calamities  of  the 
uhman  race,  we  are  forced  to  own  ourselves  dis- 
appointed. We  are  forced  to  say  with  Bacon 
that  this  celebrated  philosophy  ended  in  noth- 
ing but  disputation,  that  it  was  neither  a vine- 
yard nor  an  olive-ground,  but  an  intricate  wood 
of  briars  and  thistles,  from  which  those  who 
lost  themselves  in  it  brought  back  many 
scratches  and  no  food.* 

We  readily  acknowledge  that  some  of  the 
teachers  of  this  unfruitful  wisdom  were  among 
the  greatest  men  that  the  world  has  ever  seen. 
If  we  admit  the  justice  of  Bacon’s  censure,  we 
admit  it  with  regret,  similar  to  that  which 
Dante  felt  when  he  learned  the  fate  of  those 
illustrious  heathens  who  were  doomed  to  the 
first  circle  of  Hell. 

“ Gran  duol  mi  prese  al  cuor  quando  lo  ’ntesi, 
Ferocche  gente  di  molto  valore 
Conobbi  che  ’n  quel  limbo  eran  sospesi.” 

But  in  truth  the  very  admiration  w'hich  we 
feel  for  the  eminent  philosophers  of  antiquity 
forces  us  to  adopt  the  opinion  that  their  pow- 
ers were  systematically  misdirected.  For  how 
else  could  it  be  that  such  powers  should  effect 
so  little  for  mankind  ? A pedestrian  may 
show  as  much  muscular  vigor  on  a treadmill 
as  on  the  highway  road.  But  on  the  road  his 
vigor  will  assuredly  carry  him  forward  ; and 
on  the  treadmill  he  will  not  advance  an  inch. 
The  ancient  philosophy  was  a treadmill,  not 
a path.  It  was  made  up  by  revolving  questions, 
of  controversies  which  w'ere  always  beginning 
again.  It  was  a contrivance  for  having  much 
exertion  and  no  progress.  We  must  acknowl- 
edge that  more  than  once,  while  contemplating 
the  doctrines  of  the  Academy  and  the  Portico, 
even  as  they  appear  in  the  transparent  splen- 

* Novum  Orgamtm,  Lib.  t,  Aph,  73, 


LORD  BACON. 


I03 


dor  of  Cicero’s  incomparable  diction,  we  have 
been  tempted  to  mutter  with  the  surly  centu- 
rion in  Persius,  “ Cur  quis  non  prandeat  hoc 
est  ? ” What  is  the  highest  good,  wffiether  pain 
be  an  evil,  whether  all  things  be  fated,  whether 
we  can  be  certain  of  anything,  whether  wre  can 
be  certain  that  we  are  certain  of  nothing, 
whether  a wise  man  can  be  unhappy,  whether 
all  departures  from  right  be  equally  reprehen- 
sible, these,  and  other  questions  of  the  same 
sort,  occupied  the  brains,  the  tongues,  and  the 
pens  of  the  ablest  men  in  the  civilized  world 
during  several  centuries.  This  sort  of  philoso- 
phy, it  is  evident,  could  not  be  progressive.  It 
might  indeed  sharpen  and  invigorate  the  minds 
of  those  who  devoted  themselves  to  it ; and  so 
might  the  disputes  of  the  orthodox  Lilliputians 
and  the  heretical  Blefuscudians  about  the  big 
ends  and  the  little  ends  of  eggs.  But  such 
disputes  could  add  nothing  to  the  stock  of 
knoudedge.  The  human  mind  accordingly,  in- 
stead of  marching,  merely  marked  time.  It 
took  as  much  trouble  as  w'ould  have  sufficed  to 
carry  it  forward,  and  yet  remained  oti  the  same 
spot.  There  was  no  accumulation  of  truth,  no 
heritage  of  truth  acquired  by  the  labor  of  one 
generation  and  bequeathed  to  another,  to  be 
again  transmitted  with  larger  additions  to  a third. 
Where  this  philosophy  was  in  the  time  of  Cicero, 
there  it  continued  to  be  in  the  time  of  Seneca, 
and  there  it  continued  to  be  in  the  time  of  Favo- 
ritrus.  The  same  sects  were  still  battling  with 
the  same  unsatisfactory  arguments  about  the 
same  interminable  questions.  There  had  been 
no  want  of  ingenuity,  of  zeal,  of  industry. 
Every  trace  of  intellectual  cultivation  w'as  there, 
except  a harvest.  There  had  been  plenty  of 
ploughing,  harrowing,  reaping,  threshing.  But 
the  garners  contained  only  smut  and  stubble. 

The  ancient  philosophers  did  not  neglect 
natural  science  ; but  they  did  not  cultivate  it 
for  the  purpose  of  increasing  the  power  and 
ameliorating  the  condition  of  man,  The  taint 


104  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS . 

of  barrenness  had  spread  from  ethical  to  physi- 
cal speculations.  Seneca  wrote  largely  on 
natural  philosophy,  and  magnified  the  import- 
ance of  that  study.  But  why  ? Not  because  it 
tended  to  assuage  suffering,  to  multiply  the 
conveniences  of  life,  to  extend  the  empire  of 
man  over  the  material  world  ; but  solely  be- 
cause it  tended  to  raise  the  mind  above  low 
cares,  to  separate  it  from  the  body,  to  exercise 
its  subtilty  in  the  solution  of  very  obscure  ques- 
tions.* Thus  natural  philosophy  was  consid- 
ered in  the  light  merely  of  a mental  exercise. 
It  was  made  subsidiary  to  the  art  of  disputation  ; 
and  it  consequently  proved  altogether  barren 
of  useful  discoveries. 

There  was  one  sect  which,  however  absurd 
and  pernicious  some  of  its  doctrines  may  have 
been,  ought,  it  should  seem,  to  have  merited  an 
exception  from  the  general  censure  which  Ba- 
con has  pronounced  on  the  ancient  schools  of 
wisdom.  The  Epicurean,  who  referred  all 
happiness  to  bodily  pleasure,  and  all  evil  to 
bodily  pain,  might  have  been  expected  to  exert 
himself  for  the  purpose  of  bettering  his  own 
physical  condition  and  that  of  his  neighbors. 
But  the  thought  seems  never  to  have  occurred 
to  any  member  of  that  school.  Indeed  their 
notion,  as  reported  by  their  great  poet,  was, 
that  no  more  improvements  were  to  be  ex- 
pected in  the  arts  which  conduce  to  the  com- 
fort of  life. 


“Ad  victum  quae  flagitat  usus 
Omnia  jam  ferme  mortalibus  esse  parata.” 

This  contented  despondency,  this  disposition 
to  admire  what  had  been  done,  and  to  expect 
that  nothing  more  will  be  done,  is  strongly 
characteristic  of  all  the  schools  which  pre- 
ceded the  school  of  Fruit  and  Progress.  Wide- 
ly as  the  Epicurean  and  the  Stoic  differed  on 
most  points,  they  seemed  to  have  quite  agreed 

* Seneca,  Nat , Quasi,  f rasf.  I4b.  3, 


LORD  BA  COAT. 


*°5 

in  their  contempt  for  pursuits  so  vulgar  as  to 
be  useful.  The  philosophy  of  both  was  a garru- 
lous, declaiming,  canting,  wrangling  philosophy. 
Century  after  century  they  continued  to  repeat 
their  hostile  war-cries,  Virtue  and  Pleasure  ; 
and  in  the  end  it  appeared  that  the  Epicurean 
had  added  as  little  to  the  quantity  of  pleasure 
as  the  Stoic  to  the  quantity  of  virtue.  It  is  on 
the  pedestal  of  Bacon,  not  on  that  of  Epicurus, 
that  those  noble  lines  ought  to  be  inscribed  : 

“ O tenebris  tantis  tam  clarum  extollere  lumen 
Qui  primus  potuisti,  illustrans  commoda  vitae.’ 

In  the  fifth  century  Christianity  had  con- 
quered Paganism,  and  Paganism  had  infected 
Christianity.  The  Church  was  now  victorious 
and  corrupt.  The  rites  of  the  Pantheon  had 
passed  into  her  worship,  the  subtilties  of  the 
Academy  into  her  creed.  In  an  evil  day, 
though  with  great  pomp  and  solemnity, — we 
quote  the  language  of  Bacon, — was  the  ill- 
starred  alliance  stricken  between  the  old  phil- 
osophy and  the  new  faith.*  Questions  widely 
different  from  those  which  had  employed  the 
ingenuity  of  Pyrrho  and  Carneades,  but  just 
as  subtle,  just  as  interminable,  and  just  as  un- 
profitable, exercised  the  minds  of  the  lively 
and  voluble  Greeks.  When  learning  began  to 
revive  in  the  West,  similar  trifles  occupied  the 
sharp  and  vigorous  intellects  of  the  Schoolmen. 
There  was  another  sowing  of  the  wind,  and 
another  reaping  of  the  whirlwind.  The  great 
work  of  improving  the  condition  of  the  human 
race  was  still  considered  as  unworthy  of  a man 
of  learning.  Those  who  undertook  that  task, 
if  what  they  effected  could  be  readily  compre- 
hended, were  despised  as  mechanics;  if  not, 
they  were  in  danger  of  being  burned  as  com 
jurers. 

There  cannot  be  a stronger  proof  of  the  de- 
gree in  which  the  human  mind  had  been  mis- 

* Ccgitata  et  visa. 


I06  BIOGRAPHICAL  essays. 

directed  than  the  history  of  the  two  greatest 
events  which  took  place  during  the  middle 
ages.  We  speak  of  the  invention  of  Gun- 
powder and  of  the  invention  of  Printing.  The 
dates  of  both  are  unknown.  The  authors  of 
both  are  unknown.  Nor  was  this  because 
men  were  too  rude  and  ignorant  to  value  in- 
tellectual superiority.  The  inventor  of  gun- 
powder seems  to  have  been  contemporary  with 
Petrarch  and  Boccaccio.  The  inventor  of 
printing  was  certainly  contemporary  with  Nicho- 
las the  Fifth,  with  Cosmo  de’  Medici,  and  with 
a crowd  of  distinguished  scholars.  But  the 
human  mind  still  retained  that  fatal  bent  which 
it  had  received  two  thousand  years  earlier. 
George  of  Trebisond  and  Marsilio  Ficino 
would  not  easily  have  been  brought  to  believe 
that  the  inventor  of  the  printing-press  had 
done  more  for  mankind  than  themselves,  or 
than  those  ancient  writers  of  whom  they  were 
the  enthusiastic  votaries. 

At  length  the  time  arrived  when  the  barren 
philosophy  which  had,  during  so  many  ages, 
employed  the  faculties  of  the  ablest  of  men, 
was  destined  to  fall.  It  had  worn  many 
shapes.  It  had  mingled  itself  with  many  creeds. 
It  had  survived  revolutions  in  which  empires, 
religions,  languages,  races,  had  perished. 
Driven  from  its  ancient  haunts,  it  had  taken 
sanctuary  in  that  Church  which  it  had  perse- 
cuted, and  had,  like  the  daring  fiends  of  the 
poet,  placed  its  seat 

“ next  the  seat  of  God, 

And  with  its  darkness  dared  affront  his  light.” 

Words,  and  more  words,  and  nothing  but 
words,  had  been  all  the  fruit  of  all  the  toil  of 
all  the  most  renowned  sages  of  sixty  genera- 
tions. But  the  days  of  this  sterile  exuberance 
were  numbered. 

Many  causes  predisposed  the  public  mind  to 
a change.  The  study  of  a great  variety  of  an- 


LORD  BA  COAT. 


-1 07 

cient  writers,  though  it  did  not  give  a right 
direction  to  philosophical  research,  did  much 
towards  destroying  that  blind  reverence  for 
authority  which  had  prevailed  when  Aristotle 
ruled  alone.  The  rise  of  the  Florentine  sect 
of  Platonists,  a sect  to  which  belonged 
some  of  the  finest  minds  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  was  not  an  unimportant  event.  The 
mere  substitution  of  the  Academic  for  the 
Peripatetic  philosophy  would  indeed  have 
done  little  good.  But  anything  was  better 
than  the  old  habit  of  unreasoning  servility. 
It  was  something  to  have  a choice  of  tyrants. 
“ A spark  of  freedom,”  as  Gibbon  has  justly 
remarked,  “ was  produced  by  this  collision  of 
adverse  servitude.” 

Other  causes  might  be  mentioned.  But  it  is 
chiefly  to  the  great  reformation  of  religion  that 
we  owe  the  great  reformation  of  philosophy. 
The  alliance  between  the  Schools  and  the  Vati- 
can had  for  ages  been  so  close  that  those  who 
threw  off  the  dominion  of  the  Vatican  could  not 
continue  to  recognize  the  authority  of  the 
Schools.  Most  of  the  chiefs  of  the  schism  treated 
the  Peripatetic  philosophy  with  contempt,  and 
spoke  of  Aristotle  as  if  Aristotle  had  been  an- 
swerable for  all  the  dogmas  of  Thomas  Aquinas. 
“ Nulio  apud  Lutheranos  philosophiam  esse  in 
pretio,”  was  a reproach  which  the  defenders 
of  the  Church  of  Rome  loudly  repeated,  and 
which  many  of  the  Protestant  leaders  consid- 
ered as  a compliment.  Scarcely  any  text  was 
more  frequently  cited  by  the  reformers  than 
that  in  which  St.  Paul  cautions  the  Collossians 
not  to  let  any  man  spoil  them  by  philosophy. 
Luther,  almost  at  the  onset  of  his  career,  went 
so  far  as  to  declare  that  no  man  could  be  at 
once  a proficient  in  the  school  of  Aristotle  and 
in  that  of  Christ.  Zwingle,  Bucer,  Peter  Mar- 
tyr, Calvin,  held  similar  language.  In  some  of 
the  Scotch  universities,  the  Aristotlean  system 
was  discarded  for  that  of  Ramus.  Thus,  be- 
fore the  birth  of  Bacon,  the  empire  of  the 


10S  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

scholastic  philosophy  had  been  shaken  to  its 
foundations.  There  was  in  the  intellectual 
world  an  anarchy  resembling  that  which  in  the 
political  world  often  follows  the  overthrow  of 
an  old  and  deeply-rooted  government.  Anti- 
quity, prescription,  the  sound  of  great  names, 
had  ceased  to  awe  mankind.  The  dynasty 
which  had  reigned  for  ages  was  at  an  end  : 
and  the  vacant  throne  was  left  to  be  struggled 
for  by  pretenders. 

The  first  effect  of  this  great  revolution,  was, 
as  Bacon  most  justly  observed,*  to  give  for  a 
time  an  undue  importance  to  the  mere  graces 
of  style.  The  new  breed  of  scholars,  the 
Aschams  and  Buchanans,  nourished  with  the 
finest  compositions  of  the  Augustan  age,  re- 
garded with  loathing  the  dry,  crabbed,  and  bar- 
barous diction  of  respondents  and  opponents. 
They  were  far  less  studious  about  the  matter 
of  their  writing  than  about  the  manner.  They 
succeeded  in  reforming  Latinity;  but  they 
never  even  aspired  to  effect  a reform  in  phil- 
osophy. 

At  this  time  Bacon  appeared.  It  is  alto- 
gether incorrect  to  say,  as  has  often  been  said, 
that  he  was  the  first  man  who  rose  up  against 
the  Aristotlean  philosophy  when  in  the  height 
of  its  power.  The  authority  of  that  philosophy 
had,  as  we  have  shown,  received  a fatal  blow 
long  before  he  was  born.  Several  speculators, 
among  whom  Ramus  is  the  best  known,  had 
recently  attempted  to  form  new  sects.  Bacon’s 
own  expressions  about  the  state  of  public 
opinion  in  the  time  of  Luther  are  clear  and 
strong;  “ Accedebat,”  says  he,  “ odium  et  con- 
temptus,  illis  ipsis  temporibus  ortus  erga  Schol- 
asticos.”  And  again,  “ Scholasticorum  doc- 
trina  despectui  prorsus  haberi  ccepit  tanquam 
aspera  et  barbara.”  f The  part  which  Bacon 
played  in  this  great  change  was  the  part,  not 

* De  Augment  is , Lib  1. 

t Both  these  passages  are  in  the  first  book  of  De  Aug - 
mentis , 


LORD  BACON. 


109 


of  Robespierre,  but  of  Bonaparte.  The  ancient 
order  of  things  had  been  subverted.  Some 
bigots  still  cherished  with  devoted  loyalty  the  re- 
membrance of  the  fallen  monarchy,  and  exerted 
themselves  to  effect  a restoration.  But  the 
majority  had  so  such  feeling.  Freed,  yet  not 
knowing  how  to  use  their  freedom,  they  pur- 
sued no  determinate  course,  and  had  found  no 
leader  capable  of  conducting  them. 

That  leader  at  length  arose.  The  philosophy 
which  he  taught  was  essentially  new.  It  dif- 
fered from  that  of  the  celebrated  ancient 
teachers,  not  merely  in  method,  but  also  in  ob- 
ject. Its  object  was  the  good  of  mankind,  in 
the  sense  in  which  the  mass  of  mankind  always 
have  understood  and  always  will  understand 
the  word  good.  “ Meditor,”  said  Bacon,  “ in- 
staurationem  philosopiae  ejusmodi  quae  nihil  in- 
anis  aut  abstracti  habeat,  quaeque  vitae  humanae 
conditiones  in  meaius  provehat.”  * 

The  difference  between  the  philosophy  of 
Bacon  and  that  of  his  predecessors  cannot,  we 
think,  be  better  illustrated  than  by  comparing 
his  views  on  some  important  subjects  with 
those  of  Plato.  We  select  Plato,  because  we 
conceive  that  he  did  more  than  any  other  per- 
son towards  giving  to  the  minds  of  speculative 
men  that  bent  which  they  retained  fill  they 
received  from  Bacon  a new  impulse  in  a diamet- 
rically opposite  direction. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  how  differently  these 
great  men  estimated  the  value  of  every  kind  of 
knowledge.  Take  Arithmetic  for  example. 
Plato,  after  speaking  slightly  of  the  conveni- 
ence of  being  able  to  reckon  and  compute  in 
the  ordinary  transactions  of  life,  passes  to  what 
he  considers  as  far  more  important  advantage. 
The  study  of  the  properties  of  numbers,  he  tells 
11s,  habituates  the  mind  to  the  contemplation 
of  pure  truth,  and  raises  us  above  the  material 
universe.  He  would  have  his  disciples  apply 


* Redargutio  Philosophiarum, 


1 10 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


themselves  to  this  study,  not  that  they  may  be 
able  to  buy  or  sell,  not  that  they  may  qualify 
themselves  to  be  shop-keepers  or  travelling 
merchants,  but  that  they  may  learn  to  withdraw 
their  minds  from  the  ever-shifting  spectacle  of 
this  visible  and  tangible  world,  and  to  fix  them 
on  the  immutable  essences  of  things.* 

Bacon,  on  the  other  hand,  valued  this  branch 
of  knowledge,  only  on  account  of  its  uses  with 
reference  to  that  visible  and  tangible  world 
which  Plato  so  much  despised.  He  speaks 
with  scorn  of  the  mystical  arithmetic  of  the 
later  Platonists,  and  laments  the  propensity  of 
mankind  to  employ,  on  mere  matters  of  curi- 
osity, powers  the  whole  exertion  of  which  is 
required  for  purposes  of  solid  advantage.  He 
advises  arithmeticians  to  leave  these  trifles, 
and  to  employ  themselves  in  framing  convenient 
expressions,  which  may  be  of  use  in  physical 
researches. f 

• The  same  reasons  which  led  Plato  to  recom- 
mend the  study  of  aritpmetic  led  him  to  recom- 
mend also  the  study  of  mathematics.  The 
vulgar  crowd  of  geometricians,  he  says,  will  not 
understand  him.  They  have  practice  always  in 
view.  They  do  not  know  that  the  real  use  of 
the  science  is  to  lead  men  to  the  knowledge  of 
abstract,  essential,  eternal  truth.  $ Indeed,  if 
we  are  to  believe  Plutarch,  Plato  carried  this 
feeling  so  far  that  he  considered  geometry  as 
degraded  by  being  applied  to  any  purpose  of 
vulgar  utility.  Archytas,  it  seems,  had  framed 
machines  of  extraordinary  power  on  mathe- 
matical principles. § Plato  remonstrated  with 
his  friend,  and  declared  that  this  was  to  de- 
grade a noble  intellectual  exercise  into  a low 
craft,  fit  only  for  carpenters  and  wheelwrights. 
The  office  of  geometry,  he  said,  was  to  disci- 
* Plato’s  Republic,  Book  7. 
t De  A ugvientis,  Lib.  3.  Cap.  6. 
f Plato’s  Republic  Book  7. 

§ Plutarch,  Synipos.  viii,  and  life  of  Marcellus.  The 
machines  of  Archytas  are  also  mentioned  by  Aulus 
Gellius  and  Diogenes  Laertius. 


LORD  BA  COM 


in 


pline  the  mind,  not  to  minister  to  the  base  wants 
of  the  body.  His  interference  was  successful  ; 
and  from  that  time,  according  to  Plutarch,  the 
science  of  mechanics  was  considered  as  un- 
worthy of  the  attention  of  a philosopher. 

Archimedes  in  a later  age  imitated  and  sur- 
passed Archytas.  But  even  Archimedes  was 
not  free  from  the  prevailing  notion  that  geome- 
try degraded  by  being  employed  to  produce 
anything  useful.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  he 
was  indeed  to  stoop  from  speculation  to  practice. 
He  was  half  ashamed  of  those  inventions  which 
were  the  wonder  of  hostile  nations,  and  always 
spoke  of  them  slightingly  as  mere  amusements, 
as  trifles  in  which  a mathematician  might  be 
suffered  to  relax  his  mind  after  intense  applica- 
tion to  the  higher  parts  of  his  science. 

The  opinion  of  Bacon  on  this  subject  was 
diametrically  opposed  to  that  of  the  ancient 
philosophers.  He  valued  geometry  chiefly,  if 
not  solely,  on  account  of  those  uses,  which  to 
Plato  appeared  so  base.  And  it  is  remarkable 
that  the  longer  Bacon  lived  the  stronger  this 
feeling  became.  When  in  1605  he  wrote  the 
two  books  on  the  Advancement  of  Learning, 
he  dwelt  on  the  advantages  which  mankind  de- 
rived from  mixed  mathematics  ; but  he  at  the 
same  time  admitted  that  the  beneficial  effect 
produced  by  mathematical  study  on  the  intel- 
lect, though  a collateral  advantage,  was  “ no 
less  worthy  than  that  which  was  principal  and 
intended.'’  But  it  is  evident  that  his  views 
underwent  a change.  When,  near  twenty 
years  later,  he  published  the  De  Augmentis, 
which  is  the  Treatise  on  the  Advancement  of 
Learning,  greatly  expanded  and  carefully  cor- 
rected, he  made  important  alterations  in  the 
part  which  related  to  mathematics.  He  con- 
demned with  severity  the  high  pretensions  of 
the  mathematicians,  “ delicias  et  fastummathe- 
maticorum.”  Assuming  the  well-being  of  the 
human  race  to  be  the  end  of  knowledge,  * he 
* Usui  et  commodis  hominum  consulimus. 


I 12 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


pronounced  that  mathematical  science  could 
claim  no  higher  rank  than  that  of  an  append- 
age or  an  auxiliary  to  other  sciences.  Mathe- 
matical science,  he  says,  is  the  handmaid  of 
natural  philosophy  ; she  ought  to  demean  her- 
self as  such  ; and  he  declares  that  he  cannot 
conceive  by  what  ill  chance  it  has  happened 
that  she  presumes  to  claim  precedence  over 
her  mistress.  He  predicts — a prediction  which 
would  have  made  Plato  shudder — that  as  more 
and  more  discoveries  are  made  in  physics,  there 
will  be  more  and  more  branches  of  mixed 
mathematics.  Of  that  collateral  advantage  the 
value  of  which,  twenty  years  before,  he  rated 
so  highly,  he  says  not  one  word.  This  omis- 
sion cannot  have  been  the  effect  of  mere  inad- 
vertence. His  own  treatise  was  before  him. 
From  that  treatise  he  deliberately  expunged 
whatever  was  favorable  to  the  study  of  pure 
mathematics,  and  inserted  several  keen  re- 
flections on  the  ardent  votaries  of  that  study. 
This  fact,  in  our  opinion,  admits  of  only  one 
explanation.  Bacon’s  love  of  those  pursuits 
which  directly  tend  to  improve  the  condition 
of  mankind,  and  his  jealousy  of  all  pursuits 
merely  curious,  had  grown  upon  him,  and  had, 
it  may  be,  become  immoderate.  He  was  afraid 
of  using  any  expression  which  might  have  the 
effect  of  inducing  any  man  of  talents  to  employ 
in  speculations,  useful  only  to  the  mind  of  the 
speculator,  a single  hour  which  might  be  em- 
ployed in  extending  the  empire  of  man  over 
matter.*  If  Bacon  erred  here,  we  must  ac- 
knowledge that  we  greatly  prefer  his  error  to 
the  opposite  error  of  Plato.  We  have  no  pati- 
ence with  a philosophy  which,  like  those  Roman 
matrons  who  swallowed  abortives  in  order  to 
preserve  their  shapes,  take  pains  to  be  barren 
for  fear  of  being  homely. 

Let  us  pass  to  astronomy.  This  was  one  of 

* Compare  the  passage  relating  to  mathematics  in  the 
Second  Book  of  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  with  the 
De  Augmcniis,  Lib.  3,  Cap.  6. 


LORD  BACON. 


IJ3 

the  sciences  which  Plato  exhorted  his  disciples 
to  learn,  but  for  reasons  far  removed  from 
common  habits  of  thinking.  “ Shall  we  set- 
down  astronomy,”  says  Socrates,  “ among  the 
subjects  of  study  ? ” * “I  think  so,”  answered 
his  young  friend  Glaucon  : “to  know  some- 
thing about  the  seasons,  the  months,  and  the 
years  is  of  use  for  military  purposes,  as  well  as 
for  agriculture  and  navigation.”  “ It  amuses 
me,”  says  Socrates,  “ to  see  how  afraid  you 
are,  lest  the  common  herd  of  people  should  ac- 
cuse you  of  recommending  useless  studies.  He 
then  proceeds,  in  that  pure  and  magnificent 
diction  which,  as  Cicero  said,  Jupiter  would 
use  if  Jupiter  spoke  Greek,  to  explain  that  the 
use  of  astronomy  is  not  to  add  to  the  vulgar 
comforts  of  life,  but  to  assist  in  raising  the 
mind  to  the  contemplation  of  things  which  are 
to  be  perceived  by  the  pure  intellect  alone. 
The  knowledge  of  the  actual  motions  of  the 
heavenly  bodies  Socrates  considers  as  of  little 
value.  The  appearances  which  make  the  sky 
beautiful  at  night  are,  he  tells  us,  like  the 
figures  which  a geometrician  draws  on  the 
sand,  mere  examples,  mere  helps  to  feeble 
minds.  We  must  get  beyond  them  ; we  must 
neglect  them;  we  must  attain  to  an  astronomy 
which  is  as  independent  of  the  actual  stars  as 
geometrical  truth  is  independent  of  the  lines 
of  an  ill-drawn  diagram.  This  is,  we  imagine, 
very  nearly,  if  not  exactly,  the  astronomy  which 
Bacon  compared  to  the  ox  of  Prometheus, f a 
sleek,  well-shaped  hide,  stuffed  with  rubbish, 
goodly  to  look  at,  but  containing  nothing  to 
eat.  He  complained  that  astronomy  had,  to 
its  great  injury,  been  separated  from  natural 
philosophy,  of  which  it  was  one  of  the  noblest 
provinces,  and  annexed  to  the  domain  of  mathe- 
matics. The  world  stood  in  need,  he  said,  of 
a very  different  astronomy,  of  a living  astron- 
omy, j of  an  astronomy  which  should  set  forth 

* Plato’s  Republic , Book  7. 

t De  A Hgmentis.  Lib  3,  Cap.  4.  t Astronomia  vina. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


114 

the  nature,  the  motion,  and  the  influences  of 
the  heavenly  bodies,  as  they  really  are.* * * § 

On  the  greatest  and  most  useful  of  all  human 
inventions,  the  invention  of  alphabetical  writ- 
ing, Plato  did  not  look  with  much  complacency. 
He  seems  to  have  thought  that  the  use  of 
letters  had  operated  on  the  human  mind  as 
the  use  of  the  go-cart  in  learning  to  walk,  or  of 
corks  in  learning  to  swim,  is  said  to  operate 
on  the  human  body.  It  was  a support  which, 
in  his  opinion,  soon  became  indispensable  to 
those  who  used  it,  which  made  vigorous  exer- 
tion first  unnecessary  and  then  impossible. 
The  powers  of  the  intellect  would,  he  conceived, 
have  been  more  fully  developed  without  this 
delusive  aid.  Men  would  have  been  compelled 
to  exercise  the  understanding  and  the  memory, 
and,  by  deep  and  assiduous  meditation,  to 
make  truth  thoroughly  their  own.  Now,  on  the 
contrary,  much  knowledge  is  traced  on  paper, 
but  little  is  engraved  in  the  soul.  A man  is 
certain  that  he  can  find  information  at  a mo- 
ment’s notice  when  he  wants  it.  He  therefore 
suffers  it  to  fade  from  his  mind.  Such  a man 
cannot  in  strictness  be  said  to  know  anything. 
He  has  the  show  without  the  reality  of  wisdom. 
These  opinions  Plato  has  put  into  the  mouth 
of  an  ancient  king  of  Egypt. f But  it  is  evi- 
dent from  the  context  that  they  were  his  own  ; 
and  so  they  were  understood  to  be  by  Quinc- 
tilian.f  Indeed  they  are  in  perfect  accordance 
with  the  whole  Platonic  system. 

Bacon’s  views,  as  may  easily  be  supposed, 
were  widely  different.§  The  powers  of  the 
memory,  he  observed,  without  the  help  of 
writing,  can  do  little  towards  the  advancement 
of  any  useful  science.  He  acknowledges  that 

* “ Quae  substantiam  et  motum  et  influxum  ccelestium 

prout  re  vera  sunt  preponat.”  Compare  this  language 

with  Plato’s,  “ tu  6'  h rui  ovpavti  maopev.” 
t Plato’s  PluEdrits. 
t Quinctilian,  XI. 

§ De  Angmeniis , Lib.  5.  Cap. 


LORD  BACON. 


”5 


the  memory  may  be  disciplined  to  such  a point 
as  to  be  able  to  perform  very  extraordinary 
feats.  But  on  such  feats  he  sets  little  value. 
The  habits  of  his  mind,  he  tells  us,  are  such 
that  he  is  not  disposed  to  rate  highly  any  ac- 
complishment, however  rare  which  is  of  no 
practical  use  to  mankind.  As  to  these  pro- 
digious achievements  of  the  memory,  he  ranks 
them  with  the  exhibitions  of  rope-dancers  and 
tumblers.  “ The  two  performances,”  he  says, 
“are  of  much  the  same  sort.  The  one  is  an 
abuse  of  the  powers  of  the  body;  the  other  is 
an  abuse  of  the  powers  of  the  mind.  Both 
may  perhaps  excite  our  wonder  ; but  neither  is 
entitled  to  our  respect.” 

To  Plato,  the  science  of  medicine  appeared 
to  be  of  very  disputable  advantage.  * He  did 
not  indeed  object  to  quick  cures  for  the  acute 
disorders,  or  for  injuries  produced  by  accidents. 
But  the  art  which  resists  the  slow  sap  of  a 
chronic  disease,  which  repairs  frames  enervated 
lust,  swollen  by  gluttony,  or  inflamed  by  wine, 
by  which  encourages  sensuality  by  mitigating 
the  natural  punishment  of  the  sensualist,  and 
prolongs  existence  when  the  intellect  has  ceased 
to  retain  its  entire  energy,  had  no  share  of  his 
esteem.  A life  protracted  by  medical  skill  he 
pronounced  to  be  a long  death.  The  existence 
of  the  art  of  medicine  ought,  he  said,  to  be 
tolerated,  so  far  as  that  art  may  serve  to  cure 
the  occasional  distempers  of  men  whose  con- 
stitutions are  good.  As  to  those  who  have  bad 
constitutions,  let  them  die  ; and  the  sooner  the 
better.  Such  men  are  unfit  for  war,  for  mag- 
istracy, for  the  management  of  their  domestic 
affairs,  for  severe  study  and  speculation.  If 
they  engage  in  any  vigorous  mental  exercise, 
they  are  troubled  with  giddiness  and  fulness  of 
the  head,  all  which  they  lay  to  the  account  of 
philosophy.  The  best  thing  that  can  happen 
to  such  wretches  is  to  have  done  with  life  at 


* Plato’s  Republic,  Book  3. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  KS-. 


1 16 

once.  He  quotes  mythical  authority  in  sup- 
port of  this  doctrine ; and  reminds  his  dis- 
ciples that  the  practice  of  the  sons  of  y£scu- 
lapius,  as  described  by  Homer,  extended  only 
to  the  cure  of  external  injuries. 

Far  different  was  the  philosophy  of  Bacon. 
Of  all  the  sciences,  that  which  he  seems  to 
have  regarded  with  the  greatest  interest  was 
the  science  which,  in  Plato’s  opinion,  would 
not  be  tolerated  in  a well  regulated  community. 
To  make  men  perfect  was  no  part  of  Bacon’s 
plan.  His  humble  aim  was  to  make  imperfect 
men  comfortable.  The  beneficence  of  his 
philosophy  resembled  the  beneficence  of  the 
common  Father,  whose  sun  rises  on  the  evil 
and  the  good,  whose  rain  descends  for  the  just 
and  the  unjust.  In  Plato’s  opinion  man  was 
made  for  philosophy  ; in  Bacon’s  opinion 
philosophy  was  made  for  man  ; it  was  a means 
to  an  end  ; and  that  end  was  to  increase  the 
pleasures  and  to  mitigate  the  pains  of  millions 
who  are  not  and  cannot  be  philosophers.  That 
a valetudinarian  who  took  great  pleasure  in 
being  wheeled  along  his  terrace,  who  relished 
his  boiled  chicken  and  his  weak  wine  and 
water,  and  who  enjoyed  a hearty  laugh  over 
the  Queen  of  Navarre’s  tales,  should  be  treated 
as  a caput  lupinum  because  he  could  not  read 
the  Timaeus  without  a headache,  was  a notion 
which  the  humane  spirit  of  the  English  schools 
of  wisdom  altogether  rejected.  Bacon  would 
not  have  thought  it  beneath  the  dignity  of  a 
philosopher  to  contrive  an  improved  garden 
chair  for  such  a valetudinarian,  to  devise  some 
way  of  rendering  his  medicines  more  palatable, 
to  invent  repasts  which  he  might  enjoy,  and 
pillows  on  which  he  might  sleep  soundly  ; and 
this  though  there  might  not  be  the  smallest 
hope  that  the  mind  of  the  poor  invalid  would 
ever  rise  to  the  contemplation  of  the  ideal 
beautiful  and  the  ideal  good.  As  Plato  had 
cited  the  religious  legends  of  Greece  to  justify 
his  contempt  for  the  more  recondite  parts  of 


LORD  BA  COM 


117 


the  art  of  healing,  Bacon  vindicated  the  dignity 
of  that  art  by  appealing  to  the  example  of 
Christ,  and  reminded  men  that  the  great 
Physician  of  the  soul  did  not  disdain  to  be  also 
the  physician  of  the  body.  * 

When  we  pass  from  the  science  of  medicine 
to  that  of  legislation,  we  hud  the  same  differ- 
ence between  the  systems  of  these  two  great 
men.  Plato,  at  the  commencement  of  the  Dia- 
logue on  laws,  lays  it  down  as  a fundamental 
principle  that  the  end  of  legislation  is  to  make 
men  virtuous.  It  is  unnecessary  to  point  out 
the  extravagant  conclusions  to  which  such  a 
proposition  leads.  Bacon  well  knew  to  how 
great  an  extent  the  happiness  of  every  society 
must  depend  on  the  virtue  of  its  members  ; 
and  he  also  knew  what  legislators  can  and 
what  they  cannot  do  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
moting virtue.  The  view  which  he  has  given 
of  the  end  of  legislation,  and  of  the  principal 
means  for  the  attainment  of  that  end,  has  al- 
ways seemed  to  us  eminently  happy,  even 
among  the  many  happy  passages  of  the  same 
kind  with  which  his  works  abound.  “ Finis  et 
scopus  quern  leges  intueri  atque  ad  quern  jus- 
siones  et  sanctiones  suas  dirigre  debent,  non 
alius  est  quam  ut  civesfeliciter  degant.  Id  fiet 
si  pietate  et  religione  recte  instituti,  moribus 
honesti,  armis  adversus  hostes  externos  tuti,  le- 
gum  auxilo  adversus  seditiones  et  privatas  in- 
jurias  muniti,  imperio  et  magistratibus  obse- 
quentes,  copiis  et  opibus  locupletes  et  florentes 
fuerint.”*  The  end  is  the  well-being  of  the 
people.  The  means  are  the  imparting  of  moral 
and  religious  education ; the  providing  of 
everything  necessary  for  defenee  against  for- 
eign enemies ; the  maintaining  of  internal 
order  ; the  establishing  of  a judicial,  financial, 
and  commercial  system,  under  which  wealth 
may  be  rapidly  accumulated  and  securely  en- 
joyed. 

* De  Augment  is,  Lib.  4.  Cap,  2. 

f Ibid. , Lib.  S Cap.  3,  Aph.  5. 


Ii8  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

Even  with  respect  to  the  form  in  which  laws 
ought  to  be  drawn,  there  is  a remarkable  dif- 
ference of  opinion  between  the  Greek  and  the 
Englishman.  Plato  thought  a preamble  essen- 
tial ; Bacon  thought  it  mischievous.  Each  was 
consistent  with  himself.  Plato,  considering 
the  moral  improvement  of  the  people  as  the 
end  of  legislation,  justly  inferred  that  a law 
which  commanded  and  threatened,  but  which 
neither  convinced  the  reason,  nor  touched  the 
heart,  must  be  a most  imperfect  law.  He  was 
not  content  with  deterring  from  theft  a man 
who  still  continued  to  be  a thief  at  heart,  with 
restraining  a son  who  hated  his  mother  from 
beating  his  mother.  The  only  obedience  on 
which  he  set  much  value  was  the  obedience 
which  an  enlightened  understanding  yields  to 
reason,  and  which  a virtuous  disposition  yields 
to  precepts  of  virtue.  He  really  seems  to  have 
believed  that,  by  prefixing  to  every  law  an  elo- 
quent and  pathetic  exhortation,  he  should  to  a 
great  extent,  render  penal  enactments  super- 
fluous. Bacon  entertained  no  such  romantic 
hopes ; and  he  well  knew  the  practical  incon- 
veniences of  the  course  which  Plato  recom- 
mended. “ Neque  nobis,”  says  he,  “ prologi 
legum  qui  inepti  olim  habiti  sunt,  et  legis  in- 
troducunt  disputantes  non  jubentes,  utique 
placerent,  si  priscos  mores  ferre  possemus. 
* * * * Quantum  fieri  potest  prologi  eviten- 
tur,  et  lex  incipiat  a jussione.”  * 

> Each  of  the  great  men  whom  we  have  com- 
pared intended  to  illustrate  his  system  by  a 
philosophical  romance  ; and  each  left  his  ro- 
mance imperfect.  Had  Plato  lived  to  finish 
the  Critias,  a comparison  between  that  noble 
fiction  and  the  new  Atlantis  would  probably 
have  furnished  us  with  still  more  striking  in- 
stances than  any  which  we  have  given.  It  is 
amusing  to  think  with  what  horror  he  would 
have  seen  such  an  institution  as  Solomon’s 


De  Augment  is,  Aph.  69. 


LORD  BACON. 


“9 


House  rising  in  his  republic  ; with  what  vehe- 
mence he  would  have  ordered  the  brew-houses, 
the  perfume  houses,  and  the  dispensatories  to 
be  pulled  down  ; and  with  what  inexorable 
rigor  he  would  have  driven  beyond  the  frontier 
all  the  Fellows  of  the  College,  Merchants  of 
Light  and  Depredators,  Lamps  and  Pioneers. 

To  sum  up  the  whole,  we  should  say  that 
the  aim  of  the  Platonic  philosophy  was  to  exalt 
man  into  a god.  The  aim  of  th'e  Baconian 
philosophy  was  to  provide  man  with  what  he 
requires  while  he  continues  to  be  man.  The 
aim  of  the  Platonic  philosophy  was  to  raise  us 
far  above  vulgar  wants.  The  aim  of  the  Baco- 
nian philosophy  was  to  supply  our  vulgar  wants. 
The  former  him  was  noble  ; but  the  latter  was 
attainable.  Plato  drew  a good  bow  ; but,  like 
Acestes  in  Virgil,  he  aimed  at  the  stars  ; and, 
therefore,  though  there  was  no  want  of  strength 
or  skill,  the  shot  was  thrown  away.  His  arrow 
was  indeed  followed  by  a track  of  dazzling 
radiance,  but  it  struck  nothing. 

“ Volans  liquidis  in  nubibus  arsit  arundo 
Signavitque  viam  flammis,  tenuisque  recessit 
Consumpta  in  ventos.” 

Bacon  fixed  his  eye  on  a mark  which  was 
placed  on  the  earth,  and  within  bow-shot,  and 
hit  it  in  the  white.  The  philosophy  of  Plato 
began  in  words  and  ended  in  words,  noble 
words  indeed,  words  such  as  were  to  be  ex- 
pected from  the  finest  of  human  intellects  ex- 
ercising boundless  dominion  over  the  finest  of 
human  languages.  The  philosophy  of  Bacon 
began  in  observations  and  ended  in  arts. 

The  boast  of  the  ancient  philosophers  was 
that  their  doctrine  formed  the  minds  of  men  to 
a high  degree  of  wisdom  and  virtue.  This  was 
indeed  the  only  practical  good  which  the  most 
celebrated  of  those  teachers  even  pretended  to 
effect ; and  undoubtedly,  if  they  had  effected 
this,  they  would  have  deserved  far  higher  praise 
than  if  they  had  discovered  the  most  salutary 


120 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


medicines  or  constructed  the  most  powerful 
machines.  But  the  truth  is  that,  in  those  very 
matters  in  which  alone  they  professed  to  do 
any  good  to  mankind,  in  those  very  matters  for 
the  sake  of  which  they  neglected  all  the  vulgar 
interests  of  mankind,  they  did  nothing,  or 
worse  than  nothing.  They  promised  what  was 
impracticable  ; they  despised  what  was  practic- 
able ; they  filled  the  world  with  long  words  and 
long  beards';  and  they  left  it  as  wicked  and  as 
ignorant  as  they  found  it. 

An  acre  in  Middlesex  is  better  than  a princi- 
pality in  Utopia.  The  smallest  actual  good  is 
better  than  the  most  magnificent  promises  of 
impossibilities.  The  wise  man  of  the  Stoics 
would,  no  doubt,  be  a grander  object  than  a 
steam-engine.  But  there  are  steam-engines. 
And  the  wise  man  of  the  Stoics  is  yet  to  be 
born.  A philosophy  which  should  enable  a 
man  to  feel  perfectly  happy  while  in  agonies  of 
pain  would  be  better  than  a philosophy  which 
assuages  pain.  But  we  know  that  there  are 
remedies  which  will  assuage  pain  ; and  we  know 
that  the  ancient  sages  like  the  tooth-ache  just 
as  little  as  their  neighbors.  A philosophy  which 
should  extinguish  cupidity  would  be  better  than 
a philosophy  which  should  devise  laws  for  the 
security  of  property.  But  it  is  possible  to 
make  laws  which  shall,  to  a very  great  extent 
secure  property.  And  we  do  not  understand 
how  any  motives  which  the  ancient  philosopher 
furnished  could  extinguish  cupidity.  We  know 
indeed  that  the  philosophers  were  no  better 
than  other  men.  From  the  testimony  of 
friends  as  well  as  of  foes,  from  the  confessions 
of  Epictetus  and  Seneca,  as  well  as  from  the 
sneers  of  Lucian  and  the  fierce  invectives  of 
Juvenal,  it  is  plain  that  these  teachers  of  vir- 
tue had  all  the  vices  of  their  neighbors,  with 
the  additional  vice  of  hypocrisy.  Some  people 
may  think  the  object  of  the  Baconian  philosophy 
a low  object,  but  they  cannot  deny  that,  high 
or  low,  it  has  been  attained.  They  cannot 


LORD  BA  COAT. 


121 


deny  that  every  year  makes  an  addition  to  what 
Bacon  called  “fruit.”  They  cannot  deny  that 
mankind  have  made,  and  are  making,  great 
and  constant  progress  in  the  road  which  he 
pointed  out  to  them.  Was  there  any  such  pro- 
gressive movement  among  the  ancient  philoso- 
phers ? After  they  had  been  declaiming  eight 
hundred  years,  had  they  made  the  world  better 
than  when  they  began  ? Our  belief  is  that, 
among  the  philosophers  themselves,  instead  of 
a progressive  improvement  there  was  a pro- 
gressive degeneracy.  An  abject  superstition 
which  Democritus  or  Anaxagoras  would  have 
rejected  with  scorn  added  the  last  disgrace  to 
the  long  dotage  of  the  Stoic  and  Platonic 
schools.  Those  unsuccessful  attempts  to  articu- 
late which  are  so  delightful  and  interesting  in 
a child  shock  and  disgust  us  in  an  aged  paraly- 
tic ; and  in  the  same  way,  those  wild  mytholo- 
gical fictions  which  charm  us  when  we  hear 
them  lisped  by  Greek  poetry  in  its  infancy,  ex- 
cite a mixed  sensation  of  pity  and  loathing 
when  mumbled  by  Greek  philosophy  in  its  old 
age.  We  know  that  guns,  cutlery,  spy-glasses, 
clocks,  are  better  in  our  time  than  they  were 
in  the  time  of  our  fathers,  and  were  better  in 
the  time  of  our  fathers  than  they  were  in  the 
time  of  our  grandfathers.  We  might,  therefore 
be  inclined  to  think  that,  when  a philosophy 
which  boasted  that  its  object  was  the  elevation 
and  purification  of  the  mind,  and  which  for  this 
object  neglected  the  sordid  office  of  minister- 
ing to  the  comforts  of  the  body,  had  flourished 
in  the  highest  honor  during  many  hundreds  of 
years,  a vast  moral  amelioration  must  have 
taken  place.  Was  it  so?  Look  at  the  schools 
of  this  wisdom  four  centuries  before  the 
Christian  era  and  four  centuries  after  that  era. 
Compare  the  men  whom  those  schools  formed 
at  those  two  periods.  Compare  Plato  and 
Libanius.  Compare  Pericles  and  Julian.  This 
philosophy  confessed,  nay  boasted,  that  for 


122 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


every  end  but  one  it  was  useless.  Had  it  at- 
tained that  one  end  ? 

Suppose  that  Justinian,  when  he  closed  the 
schools  of  Athens,  had  called  on  the  last  few 
sages  who  still  haunted  the  Portico,  and  lin- 
gered round  the  ancient  plane-trees,  to  show 
their  title  to  public  veneration  : suppose  that 
he  had  said,  “ A thousand  years  have  elapsed 
since,  in  this  famous  city,  Socrates  posed  Pro- 
tagoras and  Hippias  ; during  those  thousand 
years  a large  proportion  of  the  ablest  men  of 
every  generation  has  been  employed  in  con- 
stant efforts  to  bring  to  perfection  the  phil- 
osophy which  you  teach ; that  philosophy 
has  been  munificently  patronized  by  the 
powerful  ; its  professors  have  been  held  in 
the  highest  esteem  by  the  public;  it  has 
drawn  to  itself  almost  all  the  sap  and  vigor 
of  the  human  intellect:  and  what  has  it 
effected  ? What  profitable  truth  has  it  taught 
us  which  we  should  not  equally  have  known 
without  it  ? What  has  it  enabled  us  to  do 
which  we  should  not  have  been  equally  able  to 
do  without  it  ? ” Such  questions,  we  suspect, 
would  have  puzzled  Simplicius  and  Isidore. 
Ask  a follower  of  Bacon  what  the  new  phil- 
osophy, as  it  was  called  in  the  time  of  Charles 
the  Second,  has  effected  for  mankind,  and  his 
answer  is  ready:  “It  has  lengthened  life  ; it 
has  mitigated  pain  ; it  has  extinguished  dis- 
eases ; it  has  increased  the  fertility  of  the  soil ; 
it  has  given  new  securities  to  the  mariner ; it 
has  furnished  new  arms  to  the  warrior  ; it  has 
spanned  great  rivers  and  estuaries  with  bridges 
of  form  unknown  to  our  fathers  ; it  has  guided 
the  thunderbolt  innocuously  from  heaven  to 
earth  ; it  has  lighted  up  the  night  with  the 
splendor  of  the  day  ; it  has  extended  the  range 
of  the  human  vision  ; it  has  multiplied  the 
power  of  the  human  muscles  ; it  has  accelerated 
motion  ; it  has  annihilated  distance  ; it  has 
facilitated  intercourse,  correspondence,  all 
friendly  offices,  all  despatch  of  business  ; it 


LORD  BACON. 


123 


has  enabled  man  to  descend  to  the  depths  of 
the  sea,  to  soar  into  the  air,  to  penetrate 
securely  into  the  noxious  recesses  of  the  earth, 
to  traverse  the  land  in  cars  which  whirl  along 
without  horses,  and  the  ocean  in  ships  which 
run  ten  knots  an  hour  against  the  wind.  These 
are  but  a part  of  its  fruits,  and  of  its  first  fruits. 
For  it  is  a philosophy  which  never  rests,  which 
has  never  attained,  which  is  never  perfect.  Its 
law  is  progress.  A point  which  yesterday  was 
invisible  is  its  goal  to-day,  and  will  be  its  start- 
ing-post to-morrow.” 

Great  and  various  as  the  powers  of  Bacon 
were,  he  owes  his  wide  and  durable  fame 
chiefly  to  this,  that  all  those  powers  received 
their  direction  from  common  sense.  His  love 
of  the  vulgar  useful,  his  strong  sympathy  with 
the  popular  notions  of  good  and  evil,  and  the 
openness  with  which  he  avowed  that  sympathy, 
are  the  secret  of  his  influence.  There  was  in 
his  system  no  cant,  no  illusion.  He  had  no 
anointing  for  broken  bones,  no  fine  theories 
definibus,  no  arguments  to  persuade  men  out 
of  their  senses.  He  knew  that  men,  and 
philosophers  as  well  as  other  men,  do  actually 
love  life,  health,  comfort,  honor,  security,  the 
society  of  friends,  and  do  actually  dislike  death, 
sickness,  pain,  poverty,  disgrace,  danger,  sepa- 
ration from  those  to  whom  they  are  attached. 
He  knew  that  religion,  though  it  often  regulates 
and  moderates  these  feelings,  seldom  eradicates 
them  ; nor  did  he  think  it  desirable  for  man- 
kind that  they  should  be  eradicated.  The  plan 
of  eradicating  them  by  conceits  like  those  of 
Seneca,  or  syllogisms  like  those  of  Chrys’’ppus, 
was  too  preposterous  to  be  for  a moment  en- 
tertained by  a mind  like  his.  He  did  not 
understand  what  wisdom  there  could  be  in 
changing  names  where  it  was  impossible  to 
change  things  ; in  denying  that  blindness, 
hunger,  the  gout,  the  rack,  were  evils,  and 
calling  them  ojroTrpo^v^va. ; in  refusing  to  ac- 
knowledge that  health,  safety,  plenty,  were 


1 24 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


good  things,  and  dubbing  them  by  the  name  of 
aStai/'o/Da.  In  his  opinions  on  all  these  sub- 
jects, he  was  not  a Stoic,  nor  an  Epicurean, 
nor  an  Academic,  but  what  would  have  been 
called  by  Stoics,  Epicureans,  and  Academics, 
a mere  iSuor^s,  a mere  common  man.  And  it 
was  precisely  because  he  was  so  that  his  name 
makes  so  great  an  era  in  the  history  of  the 
world.  It  was  because  he  dug  deep  that  he 
was  able  to  pile  high.  It  was  because,  in  order 
to  lay  his  foundations,  he  went  down  into  those 
parts  of  human  nature  which  lie  low,  but  which 
are  not  liable  to  change,  that  the  fabric  which 
he  reared  has  risen  to  so  stately  an  elevation, 
and  stands  with  such  immovable  strength. 

We  have  sometimes  thought  that  an  amusing 
fiction  might  be  written,  in  which  a disciple  of 
Epictetus  and  a disciple  of  Bacon  should  be 
introduced  as  fellow-travellers.  They  come  to 
a village  where  the  small-pox  has  just  begun 
to  rage,  and  find  houses  shut  up,  intercourse 
suspended,  the  sick  abandoned,  mothers  weep- 
ing in  terror  over  their  children.  The  Stoic 
assures  the  dismayed  population  that  there  is 
nothing  bad  in  the  small-pox,  and  that  to  a wise 
man,  disease,  deformity,  death,  the  loss  of 
friends  are  not  evils.  The  Baconian  takes  out 
a lancet  and  begins  to  vaccinate.  They  find  a 
body  of  miners  in  great  dismay.  An  explosion 
of  noisome  vapors  has  just  killed  many  of  those 
who  were  at  work  ; and  the  survivors  are 
afraid  to  venture  into  the  cavern.  The  Stoic 
assures  them  that  such  an  accident  is  nothing 
but  a mere  airov-porj]  pcvov.  The  Baconian,  who 
has  no  such  fine  word  at  his  command,  con 
tents  himself  with  devising  a safety-lamp.  The / 
find  a ship-wrecked  merchant  wringing  Lis 
hands  on  the  shore.  His  vessel  with  an  i .es- 
timable cargo  has  just  gone  down,  and  be  is 
reduced  in  a moment  from  opulence  to  beggary. 
The  Stoic  exhorts  him  not  to  seek  happiness 
in  things  which  lie  without  himself  and  repeats 
the  whole  chapter  of  Epictetus  717305  tov s rijv 


LORD  BA COJV. 


»*5 


anoptav  SeSoi-voras.  The  Baconian  constructs 
a diving-bell,  goes  down  in  it,  and  returns  with 
the  most  precious  effects  from  the  wreck.  It 
would  be  easy  to  multiply  illustrations  of  the 
difference  between  the  philosophy  of  thorns 
and  the  philosophy  of  fruit,  the  philosophy  of 
words  and  the  philosophy  of  works. 

Bacon  has  been  accused  of  overrating  the 
importance  of  those  sciences  which  minister  to 
the  physical  well-being  of  man,  and  of  under- 
rating the  importance  of  moral  philosophy ; and 
it  cannot  be  denied  that  persons  who  read  the 
Novum  Organum  and  the  Dc  A ug mentis,  with- 
out adverting  to  the  circumstances  under  which 
those  works  were  written,  will  find  much  that 
may  seem  to  countenance  the  accusation.  It 
is  certain,  however,  that  though  in  practice  he 
often  went  very  wrong,  and  though,  as  his  his- 
torical work  and  his  essays  prove,  he  did  not 
hold,  even  in  theory,  very  strict  opinions  on 
points  of  political  morality,  he  was  far  too  wise 
a man  not  to  know  how  much  our  well-being 
depends  on  the  regulation  of  our  minds.  The 
world  for  which  he  wished  was  not,  as  some 
people  seem  to  imagine,  a world  of  water-wheels, 
power-looms,  steam-carriages,  sensualists,  and 
knaves.  He  would  have  been  as  ready  as 
Zeno  himself  to  maintain  that  no  bodily  com- 
forts which  could  be  devised  by  the  skill  and 
labor  of  a hundred  generations  would  give 
happiness  to  a man  whose  mind  was  under  the 
tyranny  of  licentious  appetite,  of  envy,  of  hatred, 
or  of  fear.  If  he  sometimes  appeared  to  ascribe 
importance  too  exclusively  to  the  arts  which 
increase  the  outward  comforts  of  our  species, 
the  reason  is  plain.  Those  arts  had  been  most 
unduly  depreciated.  They  had  been  repre- 
sented as  unworthy  the  attention  of  a man  of 
liberal  education.  “ Cogitavit,”  says  Bacon  of 
himself,  “ earn  esse  opinionem  sive  sestima- 
tionem  humidam  et  damnosam,  minui  nempe 
majestatem  mentis  humanae,  si  in  experimentis 
et  rebus  particularibus,  sensui  subjectis,  et  in 


126 


BIO  GRA  P IIIC  A L ESS  A VS. 


materia  terminatis,  diu  ac  multum  versetur  ; 
praesertim  cum  hujusmodi  res  ad  inquirendum 
laboriosae  ad  meditandum  ignobiles,  ad  discen- 
dum  asperae,  ad  practicam  illiberales,  numero 
infinitae,  et  subtilitate  pusillae  videri  soleant, 
et  ob  hujusmodi  conditiones,  gloriae  artium 
minus  sint  accommodatae.”  * This  opinion 
seemed  to  him  “omnia  in  familia  humana  tur- 
basse.”  It  had  undoubtedly  caused  many  arts 
which  were  of  the  greatest  utility,  and  which 
were  susceptible  of  the  greatest  improvements, 
to  be  neglected  by  speculators,  and  abandoned 
to  joiners,  masons,  smiths,  weavers,  apothe- 
caries. It  was  necessary  to  assert  the.  dignity 
of  those  arts,  to  bring  them  prominently  for- 
ward, to  proclaim  that,  as  they  have  a most  seri- 
ous effect  on  human  happiness,  they  are  not 
unworthy  of  the  attention  of  the  highest  human 
intellects.  Again,  it  was  by  illustrations  drawn 
from  these  arts  that  Bacon  could  most  easily 
illustrate  his  principles.  It  was  by  improve- 
ments effected  in  these  arts  that  the  soundness 
of  his  principles  could  be  most  speedily  and 
decisively  brought  to  the  test,  and  made  mani- 
fest to  common  understandings.  He  acted  like 
a wise  commander  who  thins  every  other  part 
of  his  line  to  strengthen  a point  where  the 
enemy  is  attacking  with  peculiar  fury,  and  on 
the  fate  of  which  the  event  of  the  battle  seems 
likely  to  depend.  In  the  Novum  Organiun , 
however,  he  distinctly  and  most  truly  declares 
that  his  philosophy  is  no  less  a Moral  than  a 
Natural  Philosophy,  that,  though  his  illustra- 
tions are  drawn  from  physical  science,  the 
principles  which  those  illustrations  are  intended 
to  explain  are  just  as  applicable  to  ethical  and 
political  inquiries  as  to  inquiries  into  the  nature 
of  heat  and  vegetation. f 
* Cogitata,et  Visa.  The  expression  opinio  It umida  may 
surprise  a reader  not  accustomed  to  Bacon's  style.  The 
allusion  is  to  the  maxim  of  Heraclitus,  the  obscure: 
“Dry  light  is  the  best”  By  dry  light,  Bacon  under- 
stood the  light  of  the  intellect,  not  obscured  by  the  mists 
of  passion,  interest,  or  prejudice, 

t Noviim  Organum,  Lib,  i,  Aph,  127, 


LORD  BACON. 


127 


He  frequently  treated  of  moral  subjects  ; 
and  he  brought  to  those  subjects  that  spirit 
which  was  the  essence  of  his  whole  system. 
He  has  left  us  many  admirable  practicable  ob- 
servations on  what  he  somewhat  quaintly  called 
the  Georgies  of  the  mind,  on  the  mental  cult- 
ure which  tends  to  produce  good  dispositions. 
Some  persons,  he  said,  might  accuse  him  of 
spending  labor  on  a matter  so  simple  that  his 
predecessors  had  passed  it  by  with  contempt. 
He  desired  such  persons  to  remember  that  he 
had  from  the  first  announced  the  objects  of  his 
search  to  be  not  the  splendid  and  the  surpris- 
ing, but  the  useful  and  the  true ; not  the  de- 
luding dreams  which  go  forth  through  the  shin- 
ing portals  of  ivory,  but  the  humbler  realities 
of  the  gate  of  horn.* 

True  to  this  principle,  he  indulged  in  no 
rants  about  the  fitness  of  things,  the  all-suffi- 
ciency of  virtue,  and  the  dignity  of  human 
nature.  He  dealt  not  at  all  in  resounding 
nothings,  such  as  those  with  which  Bolingbroke 
pretended  to  comfort  himself  in  exile,  and  in 
which  Cicero  vainly  sought  consolation  after 
the  loss  of  Tullia.  The  casuistical  subtilties 
which  occupied  the  attention  of  the  keenest 
spirits  of  his  age  had,  it  should  seem,  no  at- 
tractions for  him.  The  doctors  whom  Escobar 
afterwards  compared  to  the  four  beasts  and 
the  four-and-twenty  elders  in  the  Apocalypse 
Bacon  dismissed  with  most  contemptuous 
brevity.  “Inanes  plferumque  evadunt  et 
futiles.”f  Nor  did  he  ever  meddle  with  those 
enigmas  which  have  puzzled  hundreds  of  gen- 
erations, and  will  puzzle  hundreds  more.  He 
said  nothing  about  the  grounds  of  moral  obli- 
gation, or  the  freedom  of  the  human  will.  He 
had  no  inclination  to  empluy  himsc  t in  labors 
resembling  those  of  the  damned  in  the  Grecian 
Tartarus,  to  spin  forever  on  the  same  wheel 
round  the  same  pivot,  to  gape  forever  after  the 

* De  Augmentis,  Lib.  7,  Cap.  3, 
t Lib,  7.  Cap,  3, 


128 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


same  deluding  clusters,  to  pour  water  forever 
into  the  same  bottomless  buckets,  to  pace  forever 
to  and  fro  on  the  same  wearisome  path  after 
the  same  recoiling  stone.  He  exhorted  his 
desciples  to  prosecute  researches  of  a very  dif- 
ferent description,  to  consider  moral  science 
as  a practical  science  of  which  the  object  was 
to  cure  the  diseases  and  perturbations  of  the 
mind,  and  which  could  be  improved  only  by  a 
method  analogous  to  that  which  has  improved 
medicine  and  surgery.  Moral  philosophers 
ought,  he  said,  to  set  themselves  vigorously  to 
work  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  what  are  the 
actual  effects  produced  on  the  human  character 
by  particular  modes  of  education,  by  the  in- 
dulgence of  particular  habits,  by  the  study  of 
particular  books,  by  society,  by  emulation,  by 
imitation.  Then  we  might  hope  to  find  out 
what  mode  of  training  was  most  likely  to  pre- 
serve and  restore  moral  health.* 

What  he  was  as  a natural  philosopher  and  a 
moral  philosopher,  that  he  w'as  also  as  a theo- 
logian. He  was,  we  are  convinced,  a sincere 
believer  in  the  divine  authority  of  the  Christian 
revelation.  Nothing  can  be  found  in  his  writ- 
ings, or  in  any  other  writings,  more  eloquent  and 
pathetic  than  some  passages  wl  ich  were  ap- 
parently written  under  the  influence  of  strong 
devotional  feeling.  He  loved  to  dwell  on  the 
power  of  the  Christian  religion  to  effect  much 
that  the  ancient  philosophers  could  only  pro- 
mise. He  loved  to  consider  that  religion  as 
a bond  of  charity,  the  curb  of  evil  passions, 
the  consolation  of  the  w'retched,  the  support  of 
the  timid,  the  hope  of  the  dying.  But  contro- 
versies on  speculative  points  of  theology  seem 
to  have  engaged  scarcely  any  portion  of  his 
attention.  In  what  hi  wrote  on  Church  Gov- 
ernment he  showed,  as  far  as  he  dared,  - toler- 
ant and  charitable  spirit.  He  troubled  him- 
self not  at  all  about  Homoousians  and  Homoi- 
pqsians,  Monothelites  and  Nestorians,  He 
* P«  A ugmentis.  Lib.  7,  Cap.  3, 


LORD  BACON. 


129 


lived  in  an  age  in  which  disputes  on  the  most 
subtle  points  of  divinity  excited  an  intense  in- 
terest throughout  Europe,  and  nowhere  more 
than  in  England.  He  was  placed  in  the  very 
thick  of  the  conflict.  He  was  in  power  at  the 
time  of  the  Synod  of  Dort,  and  must  for  months 
have  been  daily  deafened  with  talk  about  elec- 
tion, reprobation,  and  final  perseverance.  Yet 
we  do  not  remember  a line  in  his  works  from 
which  it  can  be  inferred  that  he  was  either  a 
Calvinist  or  an  Arminian.  While  the  world 
was  resounding  with  the  noise  of  a disputatious 
philosophy  and  a disputatious  theology,  the 
Baconian  school,  like  Alworthy  seated  between 
Square  and  Thwackum,  preserved  a calm  neu- 
trality half  scornful,  half  benevolent,  and,  con- 
tent with  adding  to  the  sum  of  practical  good, 
left  the  war  of  words  to  those  who  liked  it. 

We  have  dwelt  long  on  the  end  of  the  Ba- 
conian philosophy,  because  from  this  peculiari- 
ty all  the  other  peculiarities  of  that  philosophy 
necessarily  arose.  Indeed,  scarcely  any  person 
who  proposed  to  himself  the  same  end  with 
Bacon  could  fail  to  hit  upon  the  same  means. 

The  vulgar  notion  about  Bacon  we  take  to 
be  this,  that  he  invented  a new  method  of  ar- 
riving at  truth,  which  method  is  called  Induc- 
tion, and  that  he  detected  some  fallacy  in  the 
syllogistic  reasoning  which  had  been  in  vogue 
before  his  time.  This  notion  is  about  as  well 
founded  as  that  of  the  people  who,  in  the  middle 
ages,  imagined  that  Virgil  was  a great  con- 
jurer. Many  who  are  far  too  well  informed  to 
talk  such  extravagant  nonsense  entertain  what 
we  think  incorrect  notions  as  to  what  Bacon 
really  effected  in  this  matter. 

The  inductive  method  has  been  practised 
ever  since  the  beginning  of  the  world  by  every 
human  being.  It  is  constantly  practised  by 
the  most  ignorant  clown,  by  the  most  thought- 
less schoolboy,  by  the  very  child  at  the  breast. 
That  method  leads  the  clown  to  the  conclusion 
that  if  he  sows  barley  he  shall  not  reap  wheat. 


130 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


By  that  method  the  schoolboy  learns  that  a 
cloudy  day  is  the  best  for  catching  trout.  The 
very  infant,  we  imagine,  is  led  by  induction  to 
expect  milk  from  his  mother  or  nurse,  and  none 
from  his  father. 

Not  only  is  it  not  true  that  Bacon  invented 
the  inductive  method  ; but  it  is  not  true  that 
he  was  the  first  person  who  correctly  analyzed 
that  method  and  explained  its  uses.  Aristotle 
had  long  before  pointed  out  the  absurdity  of 
supposing  that  the  syllogistic  reasoning  could 
ever  conduct  men  to  the  discovery  of  any  new 
principle,  had  shown  that  such  discoveries  must 
be  made  by  induction,  and  by  induction  alone, 
and  had  given  the  history  of  the  inductive  pro- 
cess, concisely  indeed,  but  with  great  perspi- 
cuity and  precision. 

Again,  we  are  not  inclined  to  ascribe  much 
practical  value  to  that  analysis  of  the  inductive 
method  which  Bacon  has  given  in  the  second 
book  of  the  Novum  Organnm.  It  is  indeed  an 
elaborate  and  correct  analysis.  But  it  is  an 
analysis  of  that  which  we  are  all  doing  from 
morning  to  night,  and  which  we  continue  to  do 
even  in  our  dreams.  A plain  man  finds  his 
stomach  out  of  order.  He  never  heard  Lord 
Bacon’s  name.  But  he  proceeds  in  the  strictest 
conformity  with  the  rules  laid  down  in  the 
second  book  of  the  Novum  Organnm , and  satis- 
fies himself  that  minced  pies  have  done  the 
mischief.  “ I ate  minced  pies  on  Monday  and 
Wednesday,  and  I was  kept  awake  by  indiges- 
tion all  night.”  This  is  the  comparentia  ad  in- 
telledum  instantiarum  convenientium.  “ I did 
not  eat  any'on  Tuesday  and  Friday,  and  I was 
quite  well.”  This  is  the  comparentia  instanti- 
arum in  proximo  qua  natura  data  privantur. 
“ I ate  very  sparingly  of  them  on  Sunday,  and 
was  very  slightly  indisposed  in  the  evening. 
But  on  Christmas-day  I almost  dined  on  them, 
and  was  so  ill  that  I was  in  great  danger.” 
This  is  the  comparentia  instantiarum  secundum 
magis  et  minus . “ It  cannot  have  been  the 


LORD  BACON. 


*3  * 

brandy  which  I took  with  them.  For  I have 
drunk  brandy  daily  for  years  without  being  the 
worse  for  it.”  This  is  the  rejectio  naturarum. 
Our  invalid  then  proceeds  to  what  is  termed  by 
Bacon  the  Vindemiatio , and  pronounces  that 
minced  pies  do  not  agree  with  him. 

We  repeat  that  we  dispute  neither  the  in- 
genuity nor  the  accuracy  of  the  theory  con- 
tained in  the  second  book  of  the  Novum  Or- 
ganum  ; but  we  think  that  Bacon  greatly  over- 
rated its  utility.  We  conceive  that  the  induc- 
tive process,  like  many  other  processes,  is  not 
likely  to  be  better  performed  merely  because 
men  know  how  they  perform  it.  William  Tell 
would  not  have  been  one  whit  more  likely  to 
cleave  the  apple  if  he  had  known  that  his  arrow 
would  describe  a parabola  under  the  influence 
of  the  attraction  of  the  earth.  Captain  Barclay 
would  not  have  been  more  likely  to  walk  a 
thousand  miles  in  a thousand  hours,  if  he  had 
known  the  name  and  place  of  every  muscle  in 
his  legs.  Monsieur  Jourdain  probably  did  not 
pronounce  D and  F more  correctly  after  he 
had  been  apprised  that  D is  pronounced  by 
touching  the  teeth  with  the  end  of  the  tongue, 
and  F by  putting  the  upper  teeth  on  the  lower 
lip.  We  cannot  perceive  that  the  study  of 
Grammar  makes  the  smallest  difference  in  the 
speech  of  people  who  have  always  lived  in  good 
society.  Not  one  Londoner  in  ten  thousand 
can  lay  down  the  rules  for  the  proper  use  of 
will  and  shall.  Yet  not  one  Londoner  in  a 
million  ever  misplaces  his  will  and  shall. 
Doctor  Robertson  could,  undoubtedly,  have 
written  a luminous  dissertation  on  the  use  of 
those  words.  Yet,  even  in  his  latest  work,  he 
sometimes  misplaced  them  ludiorously.  No 
man  uses  figures  of  speech  with  more  propriety 
because  he  knows  that  one  figure  is  called  a 
metonymy  and  another  a synecdoche.  A dray- 
man in  a passion  calls  out,  “ You  are  a pretty 
fellow,”  without  suspecting  that  he  is  uttering 
irony,  and  that  irony  is  one  of  the  four  primary 


132 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


tropes.  The  old  systems  of  rhetoric  were  never 
regarded  by  the -most  experienced  and  discern- 
ing judges  as  of  any  use  for  the  purpose  of 
forming  an  orator.  “ Ego  hanc  vim  intelligo,” 
said  Cicero,  “ esse  in  praeceptis  omnibus,  non 
ut  ea  secuti  oratores  eloquentiae  laudem  sint 
adepti,  sed  qute  sua  sponte  homines  eloquentes 
facerent,  ea  quosdam  observasse,  atque  id 
egisse  ; sic  esse  non  eloquentiam  ex  artificio, 
sed  artificium  ex  eloquentia  natum.’:  We  must 
own  that  we  entertain  the  same  opinion  con- 
cerning the  study  of  Logic  which  Cicero  enter- 
tained concerning  the  study  of  Rhetoric.  A 
man  of  sense  syllogizes  in  celarent  and  sesare 
all  day  long  without  suspecting  it ; and,  though 
he  may  not  know  what  an  ignoratio  elenchi  is, 
has  no  difficulty  in  exposing  it  whenever  he  falls 
in  with  it ; which  is  likely  to  be  as  often  as  he 
falls  in  with  a Reverend  Master  of  Arts  nour- 
ished on  mode  and  figure  in  the  cloisters  of 
Oxford.  Considered  merely  as  an  intellectual 
feat,  the  Organum  of  Aristotle  can  scarcely  be 
admired  too  highly.  But  the  more  we  compare 
individual  with  individual,  school  with  school, 
nation  with  nation,  generation  with  generation, 
the  more  we  do  lean  to  the  opinion  that  the 
knowledge  of  the  theory  of  logic  has  no  ten- 
dency whatever  to  make  men  good  reasoners. 

What  Aristotle  did  for  the  syllogistic  process 
Bacon  has,  in  the  second  book  of  the  Novum 
Organum , done  for  the  inductive  process  ; that 
is  to  say,  he  has  analyzed  it  well.  His  rules 
are  quite  proper  ; but  we  do  not  need  them, 
because  they  are  drawn  from  our  own  constant 
practice. 

But,  though  everybody  is  constantly  per- 
forming the  process  described  in  the  second 
book  of  the  Novum  Organum , some  men  per- 
form it  well  and  some  perform  it  ill.  Some 
are  led  by  it  to  truth,  and  some  to  error.  It 
led  Franklin  to  discover  the  nature  of  light- 
ning. It  led  thousands,  who  had  less  brains 
than  Franklin,  to  believe  in  animal  magnetism. 


LORD  BACON. 


133 


But  this  was  not  because  Franklin  went  through 
the  process  described  by  Bacon,  and  the 
dupes  of  Mesmer  through  a different  process. 
The  comparentice  and  rejectiones  of  which  we 
have  given  examples  will  be  found  in  the  most 
unsound  inductions.  We  have  heard  that  an 
eminent  judge  of  the  last  generation  was  in 
the  habit  of  jocosely  propounding  after  dinner 
a theory,  that  the  cause  of  the  prevalence  of 
Jacobinism  was  the  practice  of  bearing  three 
names.  He  quoted  on  the  one  side  Charles 
James  Fox,  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  John 
Horne  Tooke,  John  Philpot  Curran,  Samuel 
Taylor  Coleridge,  Theobald  Wolfe  Tone. 
These  were  instantia  co?ivenie?ites.  He  then 
proceeded  to  cite  instances  absentia  in  proximo , 
William  Pitt,  John  Scott,  William  Windham, 
Samuel  Horsley,  Henry  Dundas,  Edmund 
Burke.  He  might  have  gone  on  to  instances 
secundum  magis  et  minis.  The  practice  of 
giving  children  three  names  has  been  for  some 
time  a growing  practice,  and  Jacobinism  has 
also  been  growing.  The  practice  of  giving 
children  three  names  is  more  common  in 
America  than  in  England.  In  England  we 
still  have  a King  and  a House  of  Lords  ; but 
the  Americans  are  republicans.  The  rejectiones 
are  obvious.  Burke  and  Theobald  Wolfe 
Tone  are  both  Irishmen ; therefore  the  being 
an  Irishman  is  not  the  cause  of  Jacobinism. 
Horsley  and  Horne  Tooke  are  both  clergy- 
men ; therefore  the  being  a clergyman  is  not 
the  cause  of  Jacobinism.  Fox  and  Windham 
were  both  educated  at  Oxford ; therefore  the 
being  educated  at  Oxford  is  not  the  cause  of 
Jacobinism,  Pitt  and  Horne  Tooke  were  both 
educated  at  Cambridge ; therefore  the  being 
educated  at  Cambridge  is  not  the  cause  of 
Jacobinism.  In  this  way,  our  inductive  phil- 
osopher arrives  at  what  Bacon  calls  the  Vin- 
tage, and  pronounces  that  the  having  three 
names  is  the  cause  of  Jacobinism. 

Here  is  an  induction  corresponding  with 


*34 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


Bacon’s  analysis  and  ending  in  a monstrous 
absurdity.  In  what  then  does  this  induction 
differ  from  the  induction  which  leads  us  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  presence  of  the  sun  is  the 
cause  of  our  having  more  light  by  day  than  by 
night  ? The  difference  evidently  is  not  in  the 
kind  of  instances,  but  in  the  number  of  in- 
stances ; that  is  to  say,  the  difference  is  not  in 
that  part  of  the  process  for  which  Bacon  has 
given  precise  rules,  but  in  a circumstance  for 
which  no  precise  rule  can  possibly  be  given. 
If  the  learned  author  of  the  theory  about  Jaco- 
binism had  enlarged  either  of  his  tables  a little, 
his  system  would  have  been  destroyed.  The 
name  of  Tom  Paine  and  William  Wyndham 
Grenville  would  have  been  sufficient  to  do  the 
work. 

It  appears  to  us,  then,  that  the  difference 
between  a sound  and  unsound  induction  does 
not  lie  in  this,  that  the  author  of  the  sound  in- 
duction goes  through  the  process  analyzed  in 
the  second  book  of  the  Novum  Organnm,  and 
the  author  of  the  unsound  induction  through  a 
different  process.  They  both  perform  the 
same  process.  But  one  performs  it  foolishly 
or  carelessly;  the  other  performs  it  with  pa- 
tience, attention,  sagacity,  and  judgment.  Now 
precepts  can  do  little  towards  making  men 
patient  and  attentive,  and  still  less  towards 
making  them  sagacious  and  judicious.  It  is 
very  well  to  tell  men  to  be  on  their  guard 
against  prejudices,  not  to  believe  facts  on 
slight  evidence,  not  to  be  content  with  a scanty 
collection  of  facts,  to  put  out  of  their  minds 
the  idola  which  Bacon  has  so  finely  described. 
But  these  rules  are  too  general  to  be  of  much 
practical  use.  The  question  is,  What  is  a prej- 
udice ? How  long  does  the  incredulity  with 
which  I hear  a new  theory  propounded  con- 
tinue to  be  a wise  and  salutary  incredulity  ? 
When  does  it  become  an  idolum  specus,  the 
unreasonable  pertinacity  of  a too  skeptical 
mind  ? What  is  slight  evidence  ? What  col- 


LORD  BACON. 


*35 


lection  of  facts  is  scanty  ? Will  ten  instances 
do,  or  fifty,  or  a hundred  ? In  how  many 
months  would  the  first  human  beings  who  set- 
tled on  the  shores  of  the  ocean  have  been 
justified  in  believing  that  the  moon  had  an  in- 
fluence on  the  tides  ? After  how  many  exper- 
iments would  Jenner  have  been  justified  in 
believing  that  he  had  discovered  a safeguard 
against  the  small-pox  ? These  are  questions 
to  which  it  would  be  most  desirable  to 
have  a precise  answer ; but  unhappily  they  are 
questions  to  which  no  precise  answer  can  be 
returned. 

We  think  then  that  it  is  possible  to  lay  down 
accurate  rules,  as  Bacon  has  done,  for  the  per- 
forming of  that  part  of  the  inductive  process 
which  all  men  perform  alike  ; but  that  these 
rules,  though  accurate,  are  not  wanted,  because 
in  truth  they  only  tell  us  to  do  what  we  are  all 
doing.  We  think  that  it  is  impossible  to  lay 
down  any  precise  rule  for  the  performing  of 
that  part  of  the  inductive  process  which  a great 
experimental  philosopher  performs  in  one  way, 
and  a superstitious  old  woman  in  another. 

On  this  subject,  we  think,  Bacon  was  in  an 
error.  He  certainly  attributed  to  his  rules  a 
value  which  did  not  belong  to  them.  He  went 
so  far  as  to  sav,  that,  if  his  method  of  making 
discoveries  were  adopted,  little  would  depend 
on  the  degree  of  force  or  acuteness  of  any  in- 
tellect; that  all  minds  would  be  reduced  to  one 
level,  that  his  philosophy  resembled  a compass 
or  a rule  which  equalizes  all  hands,  and  enables 
the  most  unpractised  person  to  draw  a more 
correct  circle  or  line  than  the  best  draughts- 
man can  produce  without  such  aid.*  This 
really  seems  to  us  as  extravagant  as  it  would 
have  been  in  Lindley  Murray  to  announce  that 
everybody  who  should  learn  his  Grammar 
would  write  as  good  English  as  Drvden,  or  in 
that  very  able  writer,  the  Archbishop  of  Dul> 


* Novu?n  Organum  Prref,.  and  Lib.  i.  Aph.  122. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


I36 

lin,  to  promise  that  all  the  readers  of  his  Logic 
would  reason  like  Chillingworth,  and  that  all 
the  readers  of  his  Rhetoric  would  speak  like 
Burke.  That  Bacon  was  altogether  mistaken 
as  to  this  point  will  now  hardly  be  disputed. 
His  philosophy  has  flourished  during  two  hun- 
dred years,  and  has  produced  none  of  this  level- 
ling. The  interval  between  a man  of  talents 
and  a dunce  is  as  wide  as  ever;  and  is  never 
more  clearly  discernible  than  when  they  engage 
in  researches  which  require  the  constant  use  of 
induction. 

It  will  be  seen  that  we  do  not  consider 
Bacon’s  ingenious  analysis  of  the  inductive 
method  as  a very  useful  performance.  Bacon 
was  not,  as  we  have  already  said,  the  inventor 
of  the  inductive  method.  He  was  not  even  the 
person  who  first  analyzed  the  inductive  method 
correctly,  though  he  undoubtedly  analyzed  it 
more  minutely  than  any  who  preceded  him. 
He  was  not  the  person  who  first  showed  that 
by  the  inductive  method  alone  new  truth  could 
be  discovered.  But  he  was  the  person  who 
first  turned  the  minds  of  speculative  men,  long 
occupied  in  verbal  disputes,  to  the  discovery  of 
new  and  useful  truth  ; and,  by  doing  so,  he  at 
once  gave  to  the  inductive  method  an  impor- 
tance and  dignity  which  had  never  before  be- 
longed to  it.  He  was  not  the  maker  of  that 
road;  he  was  not  the  discoverer  of  that  road; 
he  was  not  the  person  who  first  surveyed  and 
mapped  that  road.  But  he  was  the  person  who 
first  called  the  public  attention  to  an  inexhaus- 
tible mine  of  wealth,  which  had  been  utterly 
neglected,  and  which  was  accessible  by  that 
road  alone.  By  doing  so,  he  caused  that  road, 
which  had  previously  been  trodden  only  by 
peasants  and  higglers,  to  be  frequented  by  a 
higher  class  of  travellers. 

That  which  was  eminently  his  own  in  his 
system  was  the  end  which  he  proposed  to  him- 
self. The  end  being  given,  the  means,  as  it 
appears  to  us,  could  not  well  be  mistaken.  If 


LORD  BACON. 


*37 


others  had  aimed  at  the  same  object  with 
Bacon,  we  hold  it  to  be  certain  that  they  would 
have  employed  the  same  method  with  Bacon. 
It  would  have  been  hard  to  convince  Seneca 
that  the  inventing  of  a safety-lamp  was  an  em- 
ployment worthy  of  a philosopher.  It  would 
have  been  hard  to  persuade  Thomas  Aquinas 
to  descend  from  the  making  of  syllogisms  to 
the  making  of  gunpowder.  But  Seneca  would 
never  have  doubted  for  a moment  that  it  was 
only  by  means  of  a series  of  experiments  that 
a safety  lamp  could  be  invented.  Thomas 
Aquinas  would  never  have  thought  that  his  Bar- 
bara and  baralipton  would  enable  him  to  ascer- 
tain the  proportion  which  charcoal  ought  to 
bear  to  saltpetre  in  a pound  of  gunpowder. 
Neither  common  sense  nor  Aristotle  would  have 
suffered  him  to  fall  into  such  an  absurdity. 

By  stimulating  men  to  the  discovery  of  new 
truth,  Bacon  stimulated  them  to  employ  the  in- 
ductive method,  the  only  method,  even  the  an- 
cient philosophers  and  the  schoolmen  themselves 
being  judges,  by  which  new  truth  can  be  dis- 
covered. By  stimulating  men  to  the  discovery 
of  useful  truth,  he  furnished  them  with  a mo- 
tive to  perform  the  inductive  process  well  and 
carefully.  His  predecessors  had  been,  in  his 
phrase  not  interpreters,  but  anticipators  of  nat- 
ure. They  had  been  content  with  the  first 
principles  at  which  they  had  arrived  by  the 
most  scanty  and  slovenly  induction.  And  why 
was  this?  It  was,  we  conceive,  because  their 
philosophy  proposed  to  itself  no  practical  end, 
because  it  was  merely  an  exercise  of  the  mind. 
A man  who  wants  to  contrive  a new  machine 
or  a new  medicine  has  a strong  motive  to  ob- 
serve accurately  and  patiently,  and  to  try  ex- 
periment after  experiment.  But  a man  who 
merely  wants  a theme  for  disputation  or  decla- 
mation has  no  such  motive.  He  is  therefore 
content  with  premises  grounded  on  assumption, 
or  on  the  most  scanty  and  hasty  induction. 
Thus,  we  conceive,  the  schoolmen  acted.  On 


138  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

their  foolish  premises  they  often  argued  with 
great  ability;  and  as  their  object  was  “ assen- 
sum  subjugare,  non  res,”*  to  be  victorious  in 
controversy,  not  to  be  victorious  over  nature, 
they  were  consistent.  For  just  as  much  logical 
skill  could  be  shown  in  reasoning  on  false  as  on 
true  premises.  But  the  followers  of  the  new 
philosophy,  proposing  to  themselves  the  dis- 
covery of  useful  truth  as  their  object,  must 
have  altogether  failed  of  attaining  the  object 
if  they  had  been  content  to  build  theories  on 
superficial  induction. 

Bacon  has  remarked  t that  in  ages  when 
philosophy  was  stationary,  the  mechanical  arts 
went  on  improving.  Why  was  this  ? Evi- 
dently because  the  mechanic  was  not  content 
with  so  careless  a mode  of  induction  as  served 
the  purposes  of  the  philosopher.  And  why 
was  the  philosopher  more  easily  satisfied  than 
the  mechanic  ? Evidently  because  the  object 
of  the  mechanic  was  to  mould  things,  whilst 
the  object  of  the  philosopher  was  only  to  mould 
words.  Careful  induction  is  not  at  all  neces- 
sary to  the  making  of  a good  syllogism.  But 
it  is  indispensable  to  the  making  of  a good 
shoe.  Mechanics,  therefore,  have  always 
been,  as  far  as  the  range  of  their  humble  but 
useful  callings  extended,  not  anticipators  but 
interpreters  of  nature.  And  when  a philos- 
ophy arose,  the  object  of  which  was  to  do  on  a 
large  scale  what  the  mechanic  does  on  a small 
scale,  to  extend  the  power  and  to  supply  the 
wants  of  man,  the  truth  of  the  premises,  which 
logically  is  a matter  altogether  unimportant, 
became  a matter  of  the  highest  importance  ; 
and  the  careless  induction  with  which  men  of 
learning  had  previously  been  satisfied  gave 
place,  of  necessity,  to  an  induction  far  more 
accurate  and  satisfactory. 

What  Bacon  did  for  inductive  philosophy 
may,  we  think,  be  fairly  stated  thus.  The 

* Novum  Organum,  Lib.  I,  Aph,  29. 

t Do  Augmentis,  Lib.  1. 


LORD  BACON. 


x39 


objects  of  preceding  speculators  were  objects 
which  could  be  attained  without  careful  induc- 
tion. Those  speculators,  therefore,  did  not 
perform  the  inductive  process  carefully.  Bacon 
stirred  up  men  to  pursue  an  object  which  could 
be  attained  only  by  induction,  and  by  induc- 
tion carefully  performed ; and  consequently 
induction  was  more  carefully  performed.  We 
do  not  think  that  the  importance  of  what 
Bacon  did  for  inductive  philosophy  has  ever 
been  overrated.  But  we  think  that  the  nature 
of  his  services  is  often  mistaken,  and  was  not 
fully  understood  even  by  himself.  It  was  not 
by  furnishing  philosophers  with  rules  for  per- 
forming the  inductive  process  w<dl,  but  by 
furnishing  them  with  a motive  for  performing 
it  well,  that  he  conferred  so  vast  a benefit  on 
society. 

To  give  to  the  human  mind  a direction  which 
it  shall  retain  for  ages  is  the  rare  prerogative 
of  a few  imperial  spirits.  It  cannot,  therefore, 
be  uninteresting  to  inquire  what  was  the  moral 
and  intellectual  constitution  which  enabled 
Bacon  to  exercise  so  vast  an  influence  on  the 
world. 

In  the  temper  of  Bacon, — we  speak  of  Bacon 
the  philosopher,  not  of  Bacon  the  lawyer  and 
politician, — there  was  a singular  union  of 
audacity  and  sobriety.  The  promises  which 
he  made  to  mankind  might,  to  a superficial 
reader,  seem  to  resemble  the  rants  which  a 
great  dramatist  has  put  into  the  mouth  of  an 
Oriental  conqueror  half-crazed  by  good  fortune 
and  by  violent  passions. 

“ He  shall  have  chariots  easier  than  air, 

Which  I will  have  invited  ; and  thyself 
That  art  the  messenger  shall  ride  before  him. 

On  a horse  cut  out  of  an  entire  diamond. 

That  shall  be  made  to  go  with  golden  wheels, 

I know  not  how  yet.” 

But  Bacon  performed  what  he  promised. 
In  truth,  Fletcher  would  not  have  dared  to 


140 


BIOGRAPHICAL  F.SSA  VS. 


make  Arbaces  promise,  in  his  wildest  fits  of 
excitement,  the  tithe  of  what  the  Baconian 
philosophy  has  performed. 

The  true  philosophical  temperament  may, 
we  think,  be  described  in  four  words,  much 
hope,  little  faith  ; a disposition  to  believe  that 
anything,  however  extraordinary,  may  be  done  ; 
an  indisposition  to  believe  that  anything  ex- 
traordinary has  been  done.  In  these  points 
the  constitution  of  Bacon’s  mind  seems  to  us  to 
have  been  absolutely  perfect.  He  was  at  once 
the  Mammon  and  the  Surly  of  his  friend  Ben. 
Sir  Epicure  did  not  indulge  in  visions  more 
magnificent  and  gigantic.  Surly  did  not  sift 
evidence  with  keener  and  more  sagacious 
incredulity. 

Closely  connected  with  this  peculiarity  of 
Bacon’s  temper  was  a striking  peculiarity  of  his 
understanding.  With  great  minuteness  of 
observation  he  had  an  amplitude  of  compre- 
hension such  as  has  never  yet  been  vouchsafed 
to  any  other  human  being.  The  small  fine 
mind  of  Labruybre  has  not  a more  delicate 
tact  than  the  large  intellect  of  Bacon.  The 
Essays  contain  abundant  proofs  that  no  nice 
feature  of  character,  no  peculiarity  in  the  or- 
dering of  a house,  a garden,  or  a court-masque, 
could  escape  the  notice  of  one  whose  mind  was 
capable  of  taking  in  the  whole  world  of  knowl- 
edge, His  understanding  resembled  the  tent 
which  the  fairy  Paribanou  gave  to  Prince 
Ahmed.  Fold  it  ; and  it  seemed  a toy  for  the 
hand  of  a lady.  Spread  it  ; and  the  armies  of 
powerful  Sultans  might  repose  beneath  its 
shade. 

In  keenness  of  observation  he  has  been 
equalled  though  perhaps  never  surpassed.  But 
the  largeness  of  his  mind  was  all  his  own.  The 
glance  with  which  he  surveyed  the  intellectual 
universe  resembled  that  which  the  Archangel, 
from  the  golden  threshold  of  heaven,  darted 
down  into  the  new  creation. 


LORD  BA  COJV. 


1 4i 

“ Round  he  surveyed, — and  well  might,  where  he  stood 
So  high  above  "the  circling  canopy 
Of  night’s  extended  shade, — from  eastern  point 
Of  Libra,  to  the  fleecy  star  which  bears 
Andromeda  far  off  Atlantic  seas 
Beyond  the  horizon.” 

His  knowledge  differed  from  that  of  other 
men  as  a terrestrial  globe  differs  from  an 
Atlas  which  contains  a different  country  on 
every  leaf.  The  towns  and  roads  of  England, 
France,  and  Germany  are  better  laid  down  in 
the  Atlas  than  on  the  globe.  But  while  we  are 
looking  at  England  we  see  nothing  of  France  ; 
and  while  we  are  looking  at  France  we  see 
nothing  of  Germany.  We  may  go  to  the  Atlas 
to  learn  the  bearings  and  distances  of  York 
and  Bristol,  or  of  Dresden  and  Prague.  But 
it  is  useless  if  we  want  to  know  the  bearings 
and  distances  of  France  and  Martinique,  or 
of  England  and  Canada.  On  the  globe  we 
shall  not  find  all  the  market  towns  in  our  own 
neighborhood  ; but  we  shall  learn  from  it  the 
comparative  extent  and  the  relative  position 
of  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth.  “ I have 
taken,”  said  Bacon,  in  a letter  written  when  he 
was  only  thirty-one,  to  his  uncle  Lord  Burleigh, 
“ I have  taken  all  knowledge  to  be  my  prov- 
ince.” In  any  other  young  man,  indeed  in  any 
other  man,  this  would  have  been  a ridiculous 
flight  of  presumption.  There  have  been  thou- 
sands of  better  mathematicians,  astronomers, 
chemists,  physicians,  botanists,  mineralogists, 
than  Bacon.  No  man  would  go  to  Bacon’s 
works  to  learn  any  particular  science  or  art,  any 
more  than  he  would  go  to  a twelve-inch  globe 
in  order  to  find  his  way  from  Ivennington  turn- 
pike to  Clapham  Common.  The  art  which  Ba- 
con taught  was  the  art  of  inventing  arts.  The 
knowledge  in  which  Bacon  excelled  all  men 
was  the  knowledge  of  the  mutual  relations  of 
all  departments  of  knowledge. 

The  mode  in  which  he  communicated  his 
thoughts  was  peculiar  to  him.  He  had  no 


143 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  VS. 


touch  of  that  disputatious  temper  which  he 
often  censured  in  his  predecessors.  He  ef- 
fected a vast  intellectual  revolution  in  opposi- 
tion to  a vast  mass  of  prejudices  ; yet  he  never 
engaged  in  any  controversy  ; nay,  we  cannot 
at  present  recollect,  in  all  his  philosophical 
works,  a single  passage  of  a controversial  char- 
acter. All  those  works  might  with  propriety 
have  been  put  into  the  form  which  he  adopted 
in  the  work  entitled  Cogitata  et  visa  : “ Fran- 
ciscus  Baconus  sic  cogitavit.”  These  are 
thoughts  which  have  occurred  to  me  : weigh 
them  well  ; and  take  them  or  leave  them. 

Borgia  said  of  the  famous  expedition  of 
Charles  the  Eighth,  that  the  French  had  con- 
quered Italy,  not  with  steel,  but  with  chalk  ; 
for  that  the  only  exploit  which  they  had  found 
necessary  for  the  purpose  of  taking  military 
occupation  of  any  place  had  been  to  mark  the 
doors  of  the  houses  where  they  meant  to  quar- 
ter. Bacon  often  quoted  this  saying  and  loved 
to  applv  it  to  the  victories  of  his  own  intellect.* 
His  philosophy,  he  said,  came  as  a guest,  not 
as  an  enemy.  She  found  no  difficulty  in  gain- 
ing admittance,  without  a contest,  into  every 
understanding  fitted  by  its  structure  and  by  its 
capacity,  to  receive  her.  In  all  this  we  think 
that  he  acted  most  judiciously  ; first,  because, 
as  he  has  himself  remarked,  the  difference 
between  his  school  and  other  schools  was  a dif- 
ference so  fundamental  that  there  was  hardly 
any  common  ground  on  which  a controversial 
battle  could  be  fought  ; and  secondly,  because 
his  mind,  eminently  observant,  preeminently 
discursive  and  capacious,  was,  we  conceive, 
neither  formed  by  nature  nor  disciplined  by 
habit  for  dialectical  combat. 

Though  Bacon  did  not  arm  his  philosophy 
with  the  weapons  of  logic,  he  adorned  her  pro- 
fusely with  all  the  richest  decorations  of 
rhetoric.  His  eloquence,  though  not  untainted 

* Novum  Organum,  Lib.  4.  Aph.  35.  and  elsewhere. 


LORD  BACON. 


*43 


with  the  vicious  taste  of  his  age,  would  alone 
have  entitled  him  to  a high  rank  in  literature. 
He  had  a wonderful  talent  for  packing  thought 
close,  and  rendering  it  portable.  In  wit,  if  by 
wit  be  meant  the  power  of  perceiving  analogies 
between  things  which  appear  to  have  nothing 
in  common,  he  never  had  an  equal,  not  even 
Cowley,  not  even  the  author  of  Hudibras.  In- 
deed, he  possessed  this  faculty,  or  rather  this 
faculty  possessed  him,  to  a morbid  degree. 
When  he  abandoned  himself  to  it  without 
reserve,  as  he  did  in  the  Sapientia  Veterum, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  second  book  of  the  De 
Augme/itis , the  feats  which  he  performed  were 
not  merely  admirable,  but  portentous,  and 
almost  shocking.  On  these  occasions  we  mar- 
vel at  him  as  clowns  on  a fair-day  marvel  at  a 
juggler,  and  can  hardly  help  thinking  that  the 
devil  must  be  in  him. 

These,  however,  were  freaks  in  which  his 
ingenuity  now  and  then  wantoned,  with  scarcely 
any  other  object  than  to  astonish  and  amuse. 
But  it  occasionally  happened  that,  when  he 
was  engaged  in  grave  and  profound  investiga- 
tions, his  wit  obtained  the  mastery  over  all  his 
other  faculties,  and  led  him  into  absurdities 
into  w’hich  no  dull  man  could  possibly  have 
fallen.  We  will  give  the  most  striking  instance 
which  at  present  occurs  to  us.  In  the  third 
book  of  De  Augtnenti  he  tells  us  that  there  are 
some  principles  which  are  not  peculiar  to  one 
science,  but  are  common  to  several,  That 
part  of  philosophy  which  concerns  itself  with 
these  principles  is,  in  his  nomenclature,  desig- 
nated as  philosophia  prima.  He  then  proceeds 
to  mention  some  of  the  principles  with  which 
this  philosophia  prima  is  conversant.  One  of 
them  is  this.  An  infectious  disease  is  more 
likely  to  be  communicated  while  it  is  in  prog- 
ress than  when  it  has  reached  its  height. 
This,  says  he,  is  true  in  medicine.  It  is  also 
true  in  morals  ; for  we  see  that  the  exam- 
ple of  very  abandoned  men  injures  public 


‘44 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


morality  less  than  the  example  of  men  in 
whom  vice  has  not  yet  extinguished  all  good 
qualities.  Again,  he  tells  us  that  in  music 
a discord  ending  in  a concord  is  agreeable, 
and  that  the  same  thing  may  be  noted  in  the 
affections.  Once  more  he  tells  us,  that  in 
physics  the  energy  with  which  a principle  acts 
is  often  increased  by  the  antiperistasis  of  its 
opposite  ; and  that  it  is  the  same  in  the  contests 
of  factions.  If  the  making  of  ingenious  and 
sparkling  similitudes  like  these  be  indeed  the 
philosophia  prima , we  are  quite  sure  that  the 
greatest  philosophical  work  of  the  nineteenth 
century  is  Mr.  Moore’s  Lalla  Rookh.  The 
similitudes  which  we  have  cited  are  very  happy 
similitudes.  But  that  a man  like  Bacon  should 
have  taken  them  for  more,  that  he  should  have 
thought  the  discovery  of  such  resemblances  as 
these  an  important  part  of  philosophy,  has  al- 
ways appeared  to  us  one  of  the  most  singular 
facts  in  the  history  of  letters. 

The  truth  is  that  his  mind  was  wonderfully 
quick  in  perceiving  analogies  of  all  sorts.  But, 
like  several  eminent  men  whom  we  could  name, 
both  living  and  dead,  he  sometimes  appeared 
strangely  deficient  in  the  power  of  distinguish- 
ing rational  from  fanciful  analogies,  analogies 
which  are  arguments  from  analogies  which  are 
mere  illustrations,  analogies  like  that  which 
Bishop  Butler  so  ably  pointed  out,  between 
natural  and  revealed  religion,  from  analogies 
like  that  which  Addison  discovered,  between 
the  series  of  Grecian  gods  carved  by  Phidias 
and  the  series  of  English  kings  painted  by 
Kneller.  This  w’ant  of  discrimination  has  led 
to  many  strange  political  speculations.  Sir 
William  Temple  deduced  a theory  of  govern- 
ment from  the  properties  of  the  pyramid.  Mr. 
Southey’s  whole  system  of  finance  is  grounded 
on  the  phaenomena  of  evaporation  and  rain. 
In  theology,  this  perverted  ingenuity  has  made 
still  wilder  w:ork.  From  the  time  of  Irenaeus 
and  Origen  down  to  the  present  day,  there  has 


LORD  BACON. 


*45 

not  been  a single  generation  in  which  great 
divines  have  not  been  led  into  the  most  absurd 
expositions  of  Scripture,  by  mere  incapacity  to 
distinguish  analogies  proper,  to  use  the  schol- 
astic phrase,  from  analogies  metaphorical.*  It 
is  curious  that  Bacon  has  himself  mentioned 
this  very  kind  of  delusion  among  the  idola 
specus  ; and  has  mentioned  in  language  which, 
we  are  inclined  to  think,  shows  that  he  knew 
himself  to  be  subject  to  it.  It  is  the  vice,  he 
tells  us,  of  subtle  minds  to  attach  too  much 
importance  to  slight  distinctions  ; it  is  the  vice, 
on  the  other  hand,  of  high  and  discursive  in- 
tellects to  attach  too  much  importance  to  slight 
resemblances  ; and  he  adds  that  when  this  last 
propensity  is  indulged  to  excess,  it  leads  men 
to  catch  at  shadows  instead  of  substances.* 

Yet  we  cannot  wish  that  Bacon’s  wit  had 
been  less  luxuriant.  For,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  pleasure  which  it  affords,  it  was  in  the  vast 
majority  of  cases  emploved  for  the  purpose  of 
making  obscure  truth  plain,  of  making  repul- 
sive truth  attractive,  of  fixing  in  the  mind  for- 
ever truth  which  might  otherwise  have  left  but 
a transient  impression. 

The  poetical  faculty  was  powerful  in  Bacon’s 
mind,  but  not,  like  his  wit,  so  powerful  as  oc- 
casionally to  usurp  the  place  of  his  reason,  and 
to  tyrannize  over  the  whole  man.  No  imagina- 
tion was  ever  at  once  so  strong  and  so  thor- 
oughly subjugated.  It  never  stirred  but  at  a 
signal  from  good  sense.  Yet,  though  discip- 
lined to  such  obedience,  it  gave  noble  proofs 
of  its  vigor.  In  truth,  much  of  Bacon’s  life 
was  passed  in  a visionary  world,  amidst  things 
as  strange  as  any  that  are  described  in  the 
Arabian  Tales,  or  in  those  romances  on  which 
the  curate  and  barber  of  Don  Quixote’s  village 
performed  so  cruel  an  auto-de-ft:,  amidst  build- 
ings more  sumptuous  than  the  palace  of 

* See  some  interesting  remarks  on  this  subject  in 
Bishop  Berkley’s  Minute  Philosopher,  Dialogue  IV. 
t Novum  Orgaitum,  Lib.  I,  Aph.  55. 


146  B JOG PA  PH  JCAL  ESS  A VS. 

Aladdin,  fountains  more  wonderful  than  the 
golden  water  of  Parizade,  conveyances  more 
rapid  than  the  hippogryph  of  Ruggiero,  arms 
more  formidable  than  the  lance  of  Astolfo, 
remedies  more  efficacious  than  the  balsam  of 
Fierabras.  Yet  in  his  magnificent  day-dreams 
there  was  nothing  wild,  nothing  but  what  sober 
reason  sanctioned.  He  knew  that  all  the 
secrets  feigned  by  poets  to  have  been  written 
in  the  books  of  enchanters  are  worthless  when 
compared  with  the  mighty  secrets  which  are 
really  written  in  the  book  of  nature,  and  which, 
with  time  and  patience,  will  be  read  there.  He 
knew  that  all  the  wonders  wrought  by  all  the 
talismans  in  fable  were  trifles  when  compared 
to  the  wonders  which  might  reasonably  be  ex- 
pected from  the  philosophy  of  fruit,  and  that, 
if  his  words  sank  deep  into  the  minds  of  men, 
they  would  produce  effects  such  as  supersti- 
tion had  never  ascribed  to  the  incantations  of 
Merlin  and  Michael  Scot.  It  was  here  that 
he  loved  to  let  his  imagination  loose.  He 
loved  to  picture  to  himself  the  world  as  it 
would  be  when  his  philosophy  should,  in  his 
own  noble  phrase,  “ have  enlarged  the  bounds 
of  human  empire.”  We  might  refer  to  many 
instances.  But  we  will  content  ourselves  with 
the  strongest,  the  description  of  the  House  of 
Solomon  in  the  New  Atlantis.  By  most  of 
Bacon’s  contemporaries,  and  by  some  people 
of  our  time,  this  remarkable  passage  would, 
we  doubt  not,  be  considered  as  an  ingenious 
rodomontade,  a counterpart  to  the  adventures 
of  Sinbad  or  Baron  Munchausen.  The  truth 
is,  that  there  is  not  to  be  found  in  any  human 
composition  a passage  more  eminently  distin- 
guished by  profound  and  serene  wisdom.  The 
boldness  and  originality  of  the  fiction  is  far 
less  wonderful  than  the  nice  discernment 
which  carefully  excluded  from  that  long  list  of 
prodigies  everything  that  can  be  pronounced 


* New  Atlantis. 


LORD  BACON. 


*47 


impossible,  everything  that  can  be  proved  to 
lie  beyond  the  mighty  magic  of  induction  and 
of  time.  Already  some  parts,  and  not  the 
least  startling  parts,  of  this  glorious  prophecy 
have  been  accomplished,  even  according  to  the 
letter ; and  the  whole,  construed  according  to 
the  spirit,  is  daily  accomplishing  all  around  us. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  circumstances 
in  the  history  of  Bacon's  mind  is  the  order  in 
which  its  powers  expanded  themselves.  With 
him  the  fruit  came  first  and  remained  till  the 
last ; the  blossoms  did  not  appear  till  late.  In 
general,  the  development  of  the  fancy  is  to 
the  development  of  the  judgment  what  the 
growth  of  a girl  is  to  the  growth  of  a boy. 
The  fancy  attains  at  an  earlier  period  to  the 
perfection  of  its  beauty,  its  power,  and  its 
fruitfulness  ; and,  as  it  is  first  to  ripen,  it  is 
also  first  to  fade.  It  has  generally  lost  some- 
thing of  its  bloom  and  freshness  before  the 
sterner  faculties  have  reached  maturity ; and 
it  is  commonly  withered  and  barren  while 
those  faculties  still  retain  all  their  energy.  It 
rarely  happens  that  the  fancy  and  the  judg- 
ment grow  together.  It  happens  still  more 
rarely  that  the  judgment  grows  faster  than 
the  fancy.  This  seems,  however,  to  have  been 
the  case  with  Bacon.  His  boyhood  and  youth 
appear  to  have  been  singularly  sedate.  His 
gigantic  scheme  of  philosophical  reform  is  said 
by  some  writers  to  have  been  planned  before  he 
was  fifteen,  and  was  undoubtedly  planned  while 
he  was  still  young.  He  observed  as  vigilantly, 
meditated  as  deeply,  and  judged  as  temperately 
when  he  gave  his  first  work  to  the  world  as  at 
the  close  of  his  long  career.  But  in  eloquence, 
in  sweetness  and  variety  of  expression,  and  in 
richness  of  illustration,  his  later  writings  are 
far  superior  to  those  of  his  youth.  In  this  re- 
spect the  history  of  his  mind  bears  some  re- 
semblance to  the  history  of  the  mind  of  Burke. 
The  treatise  on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful, 
though  written  on  a subject  which  the  coldest 


1 48 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


metaphysician  could  hardly  treat  without  being 
occasionally  betrayed  into  florid  writing,  is  the 
most  unadorned  of  all  Burke’s  works.  It  ap- 
peared when  he  was  twenty-five  or  twenty-six. 
When,  at  forty,  he  wrote  the  Thoughts  on  the 
Causes  of  the  existing  Discontents,  his  reason 
and  his  judgment  had  reached  their  full 
maturity  ; but  his  eloquence  was  still  in  its 
splendid  dawn.  At  fifty  his  rhetoric  was  quite 
as  rich  as  good  taste  would  permit ; and  when 
he  died,  at  almost  seventy,  it  had  become  un- 
gracefully gorgeous.  In  his  youth  he  wrote 
on  the  emotions  produced  by  mountains  and 
cascades,  by  the  master-pieces  of  painting  and 
sculpture,  by  the  faces  and  necks  of  beautiful 
women,  in  the  style  of  a Parliamentary  report. 
In  his  old  age  he  discussed  treaties  and  tariffs 
in  the  most  fervent  and  brilliant  language  of 
romance.  It  is  strange  that  the  Essay  on  the 
Sublime  and  Beautiful,  and  the  Letter  to  a 
Noble  Lord,  should  be  the  productions  of  one 
man.  But  it  is  far  more  strange  that  the 
Essay  should  have  been  a production  of  his 
youth,  and  the  Letter  of  his  old  age. 

We  will  give  very  short  specimens  of  Bacon’s 
two  styles.  In  1597,  he  wrote  thus:  “Crafty 
men  contemn  studies ; simple  men  admire 
them  ; and  wise  men  use  them;  for  they  teach 
not  their  own  use  : that  is  a wisdom  without 
them,  and  won  by  observation.  Read  not  to 
contradict,  nor  to  believe,  but  to  weigh  and 
consider.  Some  books  are  to  be  tasted,  others 
to  be  swallowed,  and  some  few  to  be  chewed 
and  digested.  Reading  maketh  a full  man,  con- 
ference a ready  man,  and  writing  an  exact  man. 
And  therefore  if  a man  write  little,  he  had 
need  have  a great  memory ; if  he  confer  little, 
have  a present  wit ; and  if  he  read  little,  have 
much  cunning  to  seem  to  know  that  he  doth 
not.  Histories  make  men  wise,  poets  witty,  the 
mathematics  subtle,  natural  philosophy  deep, 
morals  grave,  logic  and  rhetoric  able  to  con- 
tend.” It  will  hardly  be  disputed  that  this  is  a 


LORD  BACON. 


149 


passage  to  be  “ chewed  and  digested.”  We  do 
not  believe  that  Thucydides  himself  has  any- 
where compressed  so  much  thought  into  so  small 
a space. 

In  the  additions  which  Bacon  afterwards 
made  to  the  Essays,  there  is  nothing  superior 
in  truth  or  weight  to  what  we  have  quoted. 
But  his  style  was  constantly  becoming  richer 
and  softer.  The  following  passage,  first  pub- 
lished in  1625,  will  show  the  extent  of  the 
change  : Prosperity  is  the  blessing  of  the  old 
Testament  ; adversity  is  the  blessing  of  the 
New,  which  carrieth  the  greater  benediction 
and  the  clearer  evidence  of  God’s  favor.  Yet, 
even  in  the  Old  Testament,  if  you  listen  to 
David’s  harp  you  shall  hear  as  many  hearse-like 
airs  as  carols  ; and  the  pencil  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  hath  labored  more  in  describing  the 
afflictions  of  Job  than  the  felicities  of  Solomon. 
Prosperity  is  not  without  many  fears  and  dis- 
tastes ; and  adversity  is  not  without  comforts 
and  hopes.  We  see  in  needle-works  and  em- 
broideries it  is  more  pleasing  to  have  a lively 
work  upon  a sad  and  solemn  ground,  than  to 
have  a dark  and  melancholy  work  upon  a light- 
some ground.  Judge  therefore  of  the  pleasure 
of  the  heart  by  the  pleasure  of  the  eye.  Cer- 
tainly virtue  is  like  precious  odors,  most  fra- 
grant when  they  are  incensed  or  crushed  ; 
for  prosperity  doth  best  discover  vice,  but  ad- 
versity doth  best  discover  virtue.” 

It  is  bv  the  Essays  that  Bacon  is  best  known 
to  the  multitude.  The  Novum  Organum  and 
the  De  Augmentis  are  much  talked  of,  but  little 
read.  They  have  produced  indeed  a vast 
effect  on  the  opinions  of  mankind  ; but  they 
have  produced  it  through  the  operation  of 
intermediate  agents.  They  have  moved  the 
intellects  which  have  moved  the  world.  It  is 
in  the  Essays  alone  that  the  mind  of  Bacon  is 
brought  into  immediate  contact  with  the  minds 
of  ordinary  readers.  There  he  opens  an  ex- 
oteric school,  and  talks  to  plain  men,  in  lan- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


*50 

guage  which  everybody  understands,  about 
things  in  which  everybody  is  interested.  He 
has  thus  enabled  those  who  must  otherwise 
have  taken  his  merits  on  trust  to  judge  for  them- 
selves ; and  the  great  body  of  readers  have, 
during  several  generations,  acknowledged  that 
the  man  who  has  treated  with  such  consum- 
mate ability  questions  with  which  they  are 
familiar  may  well  be  supposed  to  deserve  all 
the  praise  bestowed  on  him  by  those  who  have 
sat  in  his  inner  school. 

Without  any  disparagement  to  the  admirable 
treatise  De  Augmentis , we  must  say  that,  in  our 
judgment,  Bacon’s  greatest  performance  is  the 
first  book  of  the  Novum  Organum.  All  the 
peculiarities  of  his  extraordinary  mind  are  found 
there  in  the  highest  perfection.  Many  of  the 
aphorisms,  but  particularly  those  in  which  he 
gives  examples  of  the  influence  of  the  idola, 
show  a nicety  of  observation  that  has  never 
been  surpassed.  Every  part  of  the  book  blazes 
with  wit,  but  with  wit  which  is  employed  only 
to  illustrate  and  decorate  truth.  No  book  ever 
made  so  great  a revolution  in  the  mode  of 
thinking,  overthrew  so  many  prejudices, 
introduced  so  many  new  opinions.  Yet  no 
book  was  ever  written  in  a less  contentious 
spirit.  It  truly  conquers  with  chalk  and  not 
with  steel.  Proposition  after  proposition  enters 
into  the  mind,  is  received  not  as  an  invader, 
but  as  a welcome  friend,  and  though  previous- 
ly unknown,  becomes  at  once  domesticated. 
But  what  we  most  admire  is  the  vast  capacity 
of  that  intellect  which,  without  effort,  takes  in 
at  once  all  the  domains  of  science,  all  the  past, 
the  present,  and  the  future,  all  the  errors  of 
two  thousand  years,  all  the  encouraging  signs 
of  the  passing  times,  all  the  bright  hopes  of  the 
coming  age.  Cowley,  who  was  among  the 
most  ardent,  and  not  among  the  least  discern- 
ing followers  of  the  new  philosophy,  has,  in 
one  of  his  finest  poems,  compared  Bacon  to 
Moses  standing  on  Mount  Pisgah.  It  is  to 


LORD  BA  COAT. 


1 S 1 

Bacon,  we  think,  as  he  appears  in  the  first 
book  of  the  Novum  Organum , that  the  com- 
parison applies  with  peculiar  felicity.  There 
we  see  the  great  Lawgiver  looking  round  from 
his  lonely  elevation  on  an  infinite  expanse  ; be- 
hind him  a wilderness  of  dreary  sands  and 
bitter  waters,  in  which  successive  generations 
have  sojourned,  always  moving,  yet  never  ad- 
vancing, reaping  no  harvest,  and  building  no 
abiding  city ; before  him  a goodly  land,  a land 
of  promise,  a land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey. 
While  the  multitude  below  saw  only  the  flat 
sterile  desert  in  which  they  had  so  long  wan- 
dered, bounded  on  every  side  by  a near  hori- 
zon, or  diversified  only  by  some  deceitful  mi- 
rage, he  was  gazing  from  a far  higher  stand  on 
a far  lovelier  country,  following  with  his  eye, 
the  long  course  of  fertilizing  rivers,  through 
ample  pastures,  and  under  the  bridges  of  great 
capitals,  measuring  the  distances  of  marts  and 
havens,  and  portioning  out  all  those  wealthy 
regions  from  Dan  to  Beersheba. 

It  is  painful  to  turn  back  from  contemplat- 
ing Bacon’s  philosophy  to  contemplate  his  life. 
Yet  without  so  turning  back  it  is  impossible 
fairly  to  estimate  his  powers.  He  left  the  Uni- 
versity at  an  earlier  age  than  that  at  which 
most  people  repair  thither.  While  yet  a boy 
he  was  plunged  into  the  midst  of  diplomatic 
business.  Thence  he  passed  to  the  study  of  a 
vast  technical  system  of  law,  and  worked  his 
way  up  through  a succession  of  laborious  offices, 
to  the  highest  post  in  his  profession.  In  the 
meantime  he  took  an  active  part  in  every  Par- 
liament ; he  was  an  adviser  of  the  Crown  : he 
paid  court  with  the  greatest  assiduity  and  ad- 
dress to  all  whose  favor  was  likely  to  be  of  use 
to  him  ; he  lived  much  in  society  ; he  noted  the- 
slightest  peculiarities  of  character  and  the 
slightest  changes  of  fashion.  Scarcely  any  man 
has  led  a more  stirring  life  than  that  which 
Bacon  led  from  sixteen  to  sixty.  Scarcely  any 
man  has  been  better  entitled  to  be  called  a 


1 5 2 BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

thorough  man  of  the  world.  The  founding  of 
a new  philosophy,  the  imparting  of  a new  di- 
rection to  the  minds  of  speculators,  this  was 
the  amusement  of  his  leisure,  the  work  of  hours 
occasionally  stolen  from  the  Woolsack  and  the 
Council  Board.  This  consideration,  while  it 
increases  the  admiration  with  which  we  regard 
his  intellect,  increases  also  our  regret  that  such 
an  intellect  should  so  often  have  been  unworth- 
ily employed.  He  well  knew  the  better  course, 
and  had,  at  one  time,  resolved  to  pursue  it. 
“ I confess,”  said  he  in  a letter  written  when  he 
was  still  young,  “ that  I have  vast  contemplative 
ends  as  I have  moderate  civil  ends.”  Had 
his  civil  ends  continued  to  be  moderate,  he 
would  have  been,  not  only  the  Moses,  put  the 
Joshua  of  philosophy.  He  would  have  ful- 
filled a large  part  of  his  own  magnificent  pre- 
dictions. He  would  have  led  his  followers, 
not  only  to  the  verge,  but  into  the  heart  of  the 
promised  land.  He  would  not  merely  have 
pointed  out,  but  would  have  divided  the  spoil. 
Above  all,  he  would  have  left,  not  only  a great, 
but  a spotless  name.  Mankind  would  then 
have  been  able  to  esteem  their  illustrious  bene- 
factor. We  should  not  then  be  compelled  to 
regard  his  character  with  mingled  contempt 
and  admiration,  with  mingled  aversion  and  gra- 
titude. We  should  not  then  regret  that  there 
should  be  so  many  proofs  of  the  narrowness 
and  selfishness  of  a heart,  the  benevolence  of 
which  was  yet  large  enough  to  take  in  all  races 
and  all  ages.  We  should  not  then  have  to 
blush  for  the  disingenuousness  of  the  most  de- 
voted worshipper  of  speculative  truth,  for  the 
servility  of  the  boldest  champion  of  intellectual 
freedom.  We  should  not  then  have  seen  the 
same  man  at  one  time  far  in  the  van,  at  another 
time  far  in  the  rear  of  his  generation.  We 
should  not  then  be  forced  to  own  that  he  who 
first  treated  legislation  as  a science  was  among 
the  last  Englishmen  who  used  the  rack,  that  he 
who  first  summoned  philosophers  to  the  great 


LORD  BA  COAT. 


*53 


work  of  interpreting  nature,  was  among  the 
last  Englishmen  who  sold  justice.  And  we 
should  conclude  our  survey  of  a life  placidly, 
honorably,  beneficently  passed,  “ in  industrious 
observations,  grounded  conclusions,  and  profit- 
able inventions  and  discoveries,”  * with  feelings 
very  different  from  those  with  which  we  now 
turn  away  from  the  checkered  spectacle  of  so 
much  glory  and  so  much  shame. 


* From  a Letter  of  Bacon  to  Lord  Burleigh 


WARREN  HASTINGS.* 

{Edinburgh  Review , October , 1841.) 


We  are  inclined  to  think  that  we  shall  best 
meet  the  wishes  of  our  readers,  if,  instead  of 
minutely  examining  this  book,  we  attempt  to 
give,  in  a way  necessarily  hasty  and  imperfect, 
our  own  view  of  the  life  and  character  of  Mr. 
Hastings.  Our  feeling  towards  him  is  not 
exactly  that  of  the  House  of  Commons  which 
impeached  him  in  1787;  neither  is  it  that  of 
the  House  of  Commons  which  uncovered  and 
stood  up  to  receive  him  in  1813.  He  had  great 
qualities  and  he  rendered  great  services  to  the 
State.  But  to  represent  him  as  a man  of  stain- 
less virtue  is  to  make  him  ridiculous  ; and  from 
regard  for  his  memory,  if  from  no  other  feeling, 
his  friends  would  have  done  well  to  lend  no 
countenance  to  such  adulation.  We  believe 
that,  if  he  were  now  living,  he  would  have 
sufficient  judgment  and  sufficient  greatness  of 
mind  to  wish  to  be  shown  as  he  was.  He 
must  have  known  that  there  were  dark  spots  on 
his  fame.  He  might  also  have  felt  with  pride 
that  the  splendor  of  his  fame  would  bear  many 
spots.  He  would  have  wished  posterity  to 
have  a likeness  of  him,  though  an  unfavorable 
likeness,  rather  than  a daub  at  once  insipid 
and  unnatural,  resembling  neither  him  nor 

* Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  Warren  Hastings , first  Gcrver- 
nor-General  of  Bengal.  Compiled  from  Original  Papers, 
by  the  Rev.  G.  R.Gleig,  M.  A.  3 vols.  8vo.  London: 
1841. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


^6 

anybody  else.  “ Paint  me  as  I am,”  said 
Oliver  Cromwell,  while  sitting  to  young  Lely 
“ If  you  leave  out  the  scars  and  wrinkles, 
I will  not  pay  you  a shilling.”  Even  in 
such  a trifle,  the  great  Protector  showed  both 
his  good  sense  and  his  magnanimity.  He 
did  not  wish  all  that  was  characteristic  in  his 
countenance  to  be  lost,  in  the  vain  attempt  to 
give  him  the  regular  features  and  smooth 
blooming  cheeks  of  the  curl-pated  minions  of 
James  the  First.  He  was  content  that  his  face 
should  go  forth  marked  with  all  the  blemishes 
which  had  been  put  on  it  by  time,  by  war,  by 
sleepless  nights,  by  anxiety,  perhaps  by  re- 
morse; but  with  valor,  policy,  authority,  and 
public  care  written  in  all  its  princely  lines.  If 
men  truly  great  knew  their  own  interest,  it  is 
thus  that  they  would  wish  their  minds  to  be 
portrayed. 

Warren  Hastings  sprang  from  an  ancient 
and  illustrious  race.  It  has  been  affirmed  that 
his  pedigree  can  be  traced  back  to  the  great 
Danish  sea-king,  whose  sails  were  long  the  ter- 
ror of  both  coasts  of  the  British  Channel,  and, 
who,  after  many  fierce  and  doubtful  struggles, 
yielded  at  last  to  the  valor  and  genius  of 
Alfred.  But  the  undoubted  splendor  of  the  line 
of  Hastings  needs  no  illustration  from  fable. 
One  branch  of  that  line  wore,  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  the  coronet  of  Pembroke.  From  an- 
other branch  sprang  the  renowned  Chamber- 
lain,  the  faithful  adherent  of  the  White  Rose, 
whose  fate  has  furnished  so  striking  a theme 
both  to  poets  and  to  historians.  His  family  re- 
ceived from  the  Tudors  the  earldom  of  Hunt- 
ingdon, which,  after  long  dispossession,  was  re- 
gained in  our  time  by  a series  of  events  scarcely 
paralleled  in  romance. 

The  lords  of  the  manor  of  Daylesford,  in 
Worcestershire,  claimed  to  be  considered  as 
the  heads  of  this  distinguished  family.  The 
main  stock,  indeed,  prospered  less  than  some 
of  the  younger  shoots.  But  the  Daylesford 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


tS7 


family,  though  not  ennobled,  was  wealthy  and 
highly  considered,  till,  about  two  hundred  years 
ago,  it  was  overwhelmed  by  the  great  ruin  of 
the  civil  war.  The  Hastings  of  that  time  was  a 
zealous  cavalier.  He  raised  money  on  his 
lands,  sent  his  plate  to  the  mint  at  Oxford, 
joined  the  royal  army,  and,  after  spending  half 
his  property  in  the  cause  of  King  Charles,  was 
glad  to  ransom  himself  by  making  over  most  of 
the  remaining  half  to  Speaker  Lenthal.  The 
old  seat  at  Daylesford  still  remained  in  the 
family ; but  it  could  no  longer  be  kept  up  ; and 
in  the  following  generation  it  was  sold  to  a 
merchant  of  London. 

Before  this  transfer  took  place,  the  last 
Hastings  of  Daylesford  had  presented  his 
second  son  to  the  rectory  of  the  parish  in 
which  the  ancient  residence  of  the  family  stood. 
The  living  was  of  little  value;  and  the  situa- 
tion of  the  poor  clergyman,  after  the  sale  of  the 
estate,  was  deplorable.  He  was  constantly  en- 
gaged in  lawsuits  about  his  tithes  with  the  new 
lord  of  the  manor,  and  was  at  length  utterly 
ruined.  His  eldest  son,  Howard,  a well-con- 
ducted young  man,  obtained  a place  in  the 
customs.  The  second  son,  Pynaston,  an  idle, 
worthless  boy,  married  before  he  was  sixteen, 
lost  his  wife  in  two  years,  and  died  in  the  West 
Indies,  leaving  to  the  care  of  his  unfortunate 
father  a little  orphan  destined  to  strange  and 
memorable  vicissitudes  of  fortune. 

Warren,  the  son  of  Pynaston,  was  born  on 
the  sixth  of  December,  1732.  His  mother 
died  a few  days  later,  and  he  was  left  depen- 
dent on  his  distressed  grandfather.  The  child 
was  early  sent  to  the  village  school,  where  he 
learned  his  letters  on  the  same  bench  with  the 
sons  of  the  peasantry  ; nor  did  any  thing  in  his 
garb  or  fare  indicate  that  his  life  was  to  take  a 
widely  different  course  from  that  of  the  young 
rustics  with  whom  he  studied  and  played.  But 
no  cloud  could  overcast  the  dawn  of  so  much 
genius  and  so  much  ambition.  The  very 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


>S8 

ploughmen  observed,  and  long  remembered, 
how  kindly  little  Warren  took  to  his  book. 
The  daily  sight  of  the  lands  which  his  an- 
cestors had  possessed,  and  which  had  passed 
into  the  hands  of  strangers,  filled  his  young 
brain  with  wild  fancies  and  projects.  He 
loved  to  hear  stories  of  the  wealth  and 
greatness  of  his  progenitors,  of  the-ir  splendid 
housekeeping,  their  loyalty,  and  their  valor. 
On  one  bright  summer  day,  the  boy,  then  just 
seven  years  old,  lay  on  the  bank  of  the  rivulet 
which  flows  through  the  old  domain  of  his 
house  to  join  the  Isis.  There,  as  threescore 
and  ten  years  later  he  told  the  tale,  rose  in  his 
mind  a scheme  which,  through  all  the  turns  of 
his  eventful  career,  was  never  abandoned.  He 
would  recover  the  estate  which  had  belonged 
to  his  fathers.  He  would  be  Hastings  of  Dav- 
lesford.  This  purpose,  formed  in  infancy  and 
poverty,  grew  stronger  as  his  intellect  expanded 
and  as  his  fortune  rose.  He  pursued  his  plan 
with  that  calm  but  indomitable  force  of  will 
which  was  the  most  striking  peculiarity  of  his 
character.  When,  under  a tropical  sun,  he 
ruled  fifty  millions  of  Asiatics,  his  hopes, 
amidst  all  the  cares  of  war,  finance,  and  legisla- 
tion, still  pointed  to  Daylesford.  And  when 
his  long  public  life,  so  singularly  checkered 
with  good  and  evil,  with  glory  and  obloquy,  had 
at  length  closed  forever,  it  was  to  Daylesford 
that  he  retired  to  die. 

When  he  was  eight  years  old,  his  uncle  How- 
ard determined  to  take  charge  of  him,  and  to 
give  him  a liberal  education.  The  boy  went 
up  to  London,  and  was  sent  to  a school  at 
Newington,  where  he  was  well  taught  but  ill 
fed.  He  always  attributed  the  smallness  of 
his  stature  to  the  hard  and  scanty  fare  of  this 
seminarj'.  At  ten  he  was  removed  to  West- 
minster school,  then  flourishing  under  the  care 
of  Dr.  Nichols.  Vinny  Bourne,  as  his  pupils 
affectionately  called  him,  was  one  of  the  mass 
ters.  Churchill,  Colman,  Lloyd,  Cumberland, 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


»59 


Cowper,  were  among  the  students.  With  Cow- 
per,  Hastings  formed  a friendship  which  neither 
the  lapse  of  time,  nor  a wide  dissimilarity  of 
opinions  and  pursuits,  could  wholly  dissolve.  It 
does  not  appear  that  they  ever  met  after  they 
had  grown  to  manhood.  But  forty  years  later, 
when  the  voices  of  many  great  orators  were 
crying  for  vengeance  on  the  oppressor  of  India, 
the  shy  and  secluded  poet  could  image  to  him- 
self Hastings  the  Governor-General  only  as  the 
Hastings  with  whom  he  had  rowed  on  the 
Thames  and  played  in  the  cloister,  and  refused 
to  believe  that  so  good-tempered  a fellow  could 
have  done  anything  very  wrong.  His  own  life 
had  been  spent  in  praying,  musing,  and  rhym- 
ing among  the  water-lilies  of  the  Ouse.  He  had 
preserved  in  no  common  measure  the  innocence 
of  childhood.  His  spirit  had  indeed  been 
severely  tried,  but  not  by  temptations  which 
impelled  him  to  any  gross  violation  of  the  rules 
of  social  morality.  He  had  never  been  at- 
tacked by  combinations  of  powerful  and  deadly 
enemies.  He  had  never  been  compelled  to 
make  a choice  between  innocence  and  great- 
ness, between  crime  and  ruin.  Firmly  as  he 
held  in  theory  the  doctrine  of  human  depravity, 
his  habits  were  such  that  he  was  unable  to 
conceive  how  far  from  the  path  of  right  even 
kind  and  noble  natures  may  be  hurried  by  the 
rage  of  conflict  and  the  lust  of  dominion. 

Hastings  had  another  associate  at  West- 
minster of  whom  we  shall  have  occasion  to 
make  frequent  mention,  Elijah  Impey.  We 
know  little  about  their  school  days.  But  we 
think,  we  may  safely  venture  to  guess  that, 
whenever  Hastings  wished  to  play  a trick  more 
than  usually  naughty,  he  hired  Impey  with  a 
tart  or  a ball  to  act  as  fag  in  the  worse  part  of 
the  prank. 

Warren  was  distinguished  among  his  com- 
rades as  an  excellent  swimmer,  boatman,  and 
scholar.  At  fourteen  he  was  first  in  the  ex- 
amination for  the  foundation.  His  name  in 


1 60  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

gilded  letters  on  the  walls  of  the  dormitory 
still  attests  his  victory  over  many  older  com- 
petitors. He  stayed  two  years  longer  at  the 
school,  and  was  looking  forward  to  a student- 
ship at  Christ  Church,  when  an  event  happened 
which  changed  the  whole  course  of  his  life. 
Howard  Hastings  died,  bequeathing  his  nephew 
to  the  care  of  a friend  and  distant  relation, 
named  Chiswick.  This  gentleman,  though  he 
did  not  absolutely  refuse  the  charge,  was  desir- 
ous to  rid  himself  of  it  as  soon  as  possible. 
Dr.  Nichols  made  strong  remonstrances  against 
the  cruelty  of  interrupting  the  studies  of  a 
youth  who  seemed  likely  to  be  one  of  the  first 
scholars  of  the  age.  He  even  offered  to  bear 
the  expense  of  sending  his  favorite  pupil  to 
Oxford.  But  Mr.  Chiswick  was  inflexible. 
He  thought  the  years  which  had  already  been 
wasted  on  hexameters  and  pentameters  quite 
sufficient.  He  had  it  in  his  power  to  obtain 
for  the  lad  a writership  in  the  service  of  the 
East  India  Company.  Whether  the  young 
adventurer,  when  once  shipped  off,  made  a for- 
tune, or  died  of  a liver  complaint,  he  equally 
ceased  to  be  a burden  to  anybody,  Warren 
was  accordingly  removed  from  Westminster 
school,  and  placed  for  a few  months  at  a com- 
mercial academy,  to  study  arithmetic  and  book- 
keeping. In  January,  1750,  a few  days  after 
he  had  completed  his  seventeenth  year,  he 
sailed  for  Bengal,  and  arrived  at  his  destination 
in  the  October  following. 

He  was  immediately  placed  at  a desk  in  the 
Secretary’s  office  at  Calcutta,  and  labored  there 
during  two  years.  Fort  William  was  then 
purely  a commercial  settlement.  In  the  south 
of  India  the  encroaching  policy  of  Dupleix  had 
transformed  the  servants  of  the  English  Com- 
pany, against  their  will,  into  diplomatists  and 
generals.  The  war  of  the  succession  was  raging 
in  the  Carnatic  ; and  the  tide  had  been  sud- 
denly turned  against  the  French  by  the  genius 
of  young  Robert  Clive.  But  in  Bengal  the 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


161 


European  settlers,  at  peace  with  the  natives 
and  with  each  other,  were  wholly  occupied  with 
ledgers  and  bills  of  lading. 

After  two  years  passed  in  keeping  accounts 
at  Calcutta,  Hastings  was  sent  up  the  country 
to  Cossimbazar,  a town  which  lies  on  the 
Hoogley,  about  a mile  from  Moorshedabad, 
and  which  then  bore  to  Moorshedabad  a rela- 
tion, if  we  may  compare  small  things  with  great, 
such  as  the  city  of  London  bears  to  West- 
minster. Moorshedabad  was  the  abode  of  the 
prince  who,  by  an  authority  ostensibly  derived 
from  the  Mogul,  but  really  independent,  ruled 
the  three  great  provinces  of  Bengal,  Orissa, 
and  Bahar.  At  Moorshedabad  were  the  court, 
the  harem,  and  the  public  offices.  Cossinbazar 
was  a port  and  a place  of  trade,  renowned  for 
the  quantity  and  excellence  of  the  silks  which 
were  sold  in  its  marts,  and  constantly  receiving 
and  sending  forth  fleets  of  richlv  laden  barges. 
At  this  important  point  the  Company  had 
established  a small  factory  subordinate  to  that 
at  Fort  William.  Here,  during  several  years, 
Hastings  was  employed  in  making  bargains  for 
stuffs  with  native  brokers.  While  he  was  thus 
engaged,  Surajah  Dowlah  succeeded  to  the 
Government,  and  declared  war  against  the 
English.  The  defenceless  settlement  of  Cos- 
simbazar, lying  close  to  the  tyrant's  capital, 
was  instantly  seized.  Hastings  was  sent  a 
prisoner  to  Moorshedabad,  but,  in  consequence 
of  the  humane  intervention  of  the  servants  of 
the  Dutch  Company,  was  treated  with  indul- 
gence. Meanwhile  the  Nabob  marched  on 
Calcutta ; the  governor  and  the  commandant 
fled ; the  town  and  citadel  were  taken,  and 
most  of  the  English  prisoners  perished  in  the 
Black  Hole. 

In  these  events  originated  the  greatness  of 
Warren  Hastings.  The  fugitive  governor  and 
his  companions  had  taken  refuge  on  the  dreary 
islets  of  Fulda,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Hoog- 
ley. They  were  naturally  desirous  to  obtain 


162  biographical  essays. 

full  information  respecting  the  proceedings  of 
the  Nabob  ; and  no  person  seemed  so  likely 
to  furnish  it  as  Hastings,  who  was  a prisoner 
at  large  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the 
court.  He  thus  became  a diplomatic  agent, 
and  soon  established  a high  character  for  abil- 
ity and  resolution.  The  treason  which  at  a 
later  period  was  fatal  to  Surajah  Dowlah  was 
already  in  progress  ; and  Hastings  was  admit- 
ted to  the  deliberations  of  the  conspirators. 
But  the  time  for  striking  had  not  arrived.  It 
was  necessary  to  postpone  the  execution  of  the 
design  ; and  Hastings,  who  was  nowin  extreme 
peril,  fled  to  Fulda. 

Soon  after  his  arrival  at  Fulda,  the  expedi- 
tion from  Madras,  commanded  by  Clive,  ar- 
rived in  the  Hoogley.  Warren,  young,  intrepid, 
and  excited  probably  by  the  example  of  the 
Commander  of  the  Forces  who,  having  like 
himself  been  a mercantile  agent  of  the  Com- 
pany, had  been  turned  by  public  calamities 
into  a soldier,  determined  to  serve  in  the  ranks. 
During  the  early  operations  of  the  war  he  car- 
ried a musket.  But  the  quick  eye  of  Clive 
soon  perceived  that  the  head  of  the  young  vol- 
unteer would  be  more  useful  than  his  arm. 
When,  after  the  battle  of  Plassy,  Meer  Jaffler 
was  proclaimed  Nabob  of  Bengal,  Hastings 
was  appointed  to  reside  at  the  court  of  the 
new  prince  as  agent  for  the  Company. 

He  remained  at  Moorshedabad  till  the  year 
1761,  when  he  became  a member  of  Council, 
and  was  consequently  forced  to  reside  at  Cal- 
cutta. This  was  during  the  interval  between 
Clive’s  first  and  second  administration,  an  in- 
terval which  has  left  on  the  East  India  Com- 
pany a stain  not  wholly  effaced  by  many  years 
of  just  and  humane  government.  Mr.  Vansit- 
tart,  the  Governor,  was  at  the  head  of  a new 
and  anomalous  empire.  On  one  side  was  a 
band  of  English  functionaries,  daring,  intelli- 
gent, eager  to  be  rich.  On  the  other  side  was 
a great  native  population,  helpless,  timid,  ac- 


IVARREAT  HASTINGS. 


163 

customecl  to  crouch  under  oppression.  To 
keep  the  stronger  race  from  preying  on  the 
weaker,  was  an  undertaking  which  taxed  to 
the  utmost  the  talents  and  energy  of  Clive. 
Vansittart,  with  fair  intentions,  was  a feeble 
and  inefficient  ruler.  The  master  caste,  as  was 
natural,  broke  loose  from  all  restraint  : and 
then  was  seen  what  we  believe  to  be  the  most 
frightful  of  all  spectacles,  the  strength  of  civil- 
ization without  its  mercy.  To  all  other  despo- 
tism there  is  a check,  imperfect  indeed,  and 
liable  to  gross  abuse,  still  sufficient  to  preserve 
society  from  the  last  extreme  of  misery.  A 
time  comes  when  the  evils  of  submission  are 
obviously  greater  than  those  of  resistance, 
when  fear  itself  begets  a sort  of  courage,  when 
a convulsive  burst  of  popular  rage  and  despair 
warns  tyrants  not  to  presume  too  far  on  the 
patience  of  mankind.  But  against  misgovern- 
ment  such  as  then  afflicted  Bengal,  it  was  im- 
possible to  struggle.  The  superior  intelligence 
and  energy  of  the  dominant  class  made  their 
power  irresistible.  A war  of  Bengalees  against 
Englishmen  was  like  a war  of  sheep  against 
wolves,  of  men  against  daemons.  The  only 
protection  which  the  conquered  could  find  was 
in  the  moderation,  the  clemency,  and  the  en- 
larged policy  of  the  conquerors.  That  protec- 
tion, at  a later  period,  they  found.  But  at  first 
English  power  came  among  them  unaccom- 
panied by  English  morality.  There  was  an 
interval  between  the  time  at  which  they  be- 
came our  subjects,  and  the  time  at  which  they 
began  to  reflect  that  we  were  bound  to  dis- 
charge towards  them  the  duties  of  rulers. 
During  that  interval  the  business  of  a servant 
of  the  Company  was  simply  to  wring  out  of  the 
natives  a hundred  or  two  hundred  thousand 
pounds  as  speedily  as  possible,  that  he  might  re- 
turn home  before  his  constitution  had  suffered 
from  the  heat,  to  marry  a peer’s  daughter,  to 
buy  rotten  boroughs  in  Cornwall,  and  to  give 
balls  in  St.  James’s  Square.  Of  the  conduct  of 


164 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


Hastings  at  this  time  little  is  known  ; but  the 
little  that  is  known,  must  be  considered  as  hon- 
orable to  him.  Fie  could  not  protect  the  natives ; 
all  that  he  could  do  was  to  abstain  from  plun- 
dering and  oppressing  them  ; and  this  he  ap- 
pears to  have  done.  It  is  certain  that  at  this 
time  he  continued  poor;  and  it  is  equally  cer- 
tain that  by  cruelty  and  dishonesty  he  might 
easily  have  become  rich.  It  is  certain  that  he 
was  never  charged  with  having  borne  a share 
in  the  worst  abuses  which  then  prevailed  ; and 
it  is  almost  equally  certain  that,  if  he  had 
borne  a share  in  those  abuses,  the  able  and 
bitter  enemies  who  afterwards  persecuted  him 
would  not  have  failed  to  discover  and  to  pro- 
claim his  guilt.  The  keen,  severe,  and  even 
malevolent  scrutiny  to  which  his  whole  life  was 
subjected,  a scrutiny  unparalleled,  as  we  be- 
lieve, in  the  history  of  mankind,  is  in  one  re- 
spect advantageous  to  his  reputation.  It 
brought  many  lamentable  blemishes  to  light ; 
but  it  entitles  him  to  be  considered  pure  from 
every  blemish  which  has  not  been  brought  to 
light. 

The  truth  is  that  the  temptations  to  which 
so  many  English  functionaries  yielded  in  the 
time  of  Mr.  Vansittart  were  not  temptations 
addressed  to  the  ruling  passions  of  Warren 
Hastings.  He  was  not  squeamish  in  pecuniary 
transactions;  but  he  was  neither  sordid  nor 
rapacious.  He  was  far  too  enlightened  a man 
to  look  on  a great  empire  merely  as  a buc- 
caneer would  look  on  a galleon.  Had  his 
heart  been  much  worse  than  it  was,  his  under- 
standing would  have  preserved  him  from  that 
extremity  of  baseness.  He  was  an  unscrupu- 
lous, perhaps  an  unprincipled  statesman  ; but 
still  he  was  a statesman,  and  not  a free- 
booter. 

In  1764  Hastings  returned  to  England.  He 
had  realized  only  a very  moderate  fortune  ; 
and  that  moderate  fortune  was  soon  reduced 
to  nothing,  partly  by  his  praiseworthy  liberality, 


WARREN  -HASTINGS. 


165 

and  partly  by  his  mismanagement.  Towards 
his  relations  he  appeared  to  have  acted  very 
generously.  The  greater  part  of  his  savings  he 
left  in  Bengal,  hoping  probably  to  obtain  the 
high  usury  of  India.  But  high  usury  and  bad 
security  generally  go  together ; and  Hastings 
lost  both  interest  and  principal. 

He  remained  four  years  in  England.  Of  his 
life  at  this  time  very  little  is  known.  But  it 
has  been  asserted,  and  is  highly  probable,  that 
liberal  studies  and  the  society  of  men  of  letters 
occupied  a great  part  of  his  time.  It  is  to  be 
remembered  to  his  honor  that,  in  days  when 
the  languages  of  the  East  were  regarded  by 
other  servants  of  the  Company  merely  as 
the  means  of  communicating  with  weavers  and 
money-changers,  his  enlarged  and  accomplished 
mind  sought  in  Asiatic  learning  for  new  forms 
of  intellectual  enjoyment,  and  for  new  views  of 
government  and  society.  Perhaps,  like  most 
persons  who  have  paid  much  attention  to  de- 
partments of  knowledge  which  lie  out  of  the 
common  track,  he  was  inclined  to  overrate  the 
value  of  his  favorite  studies.  He  conceived 
that  the  cultivation  of  Persian  literature  might 
with  advantage  be  made  a part  of  the  liberal 
education  of  an  English  gentleman  ; and  he 
drew  up  a plan  with  that  view.  It  is  said  that 
the  University  of  Oxford,  in  which  Oriental 
learning  had  never,  since  the  revival  of  letters, 
been  wholly  neglected,  was  to  be  the  seat  of 
the  institution  which  he  contemplated.  An 
endowment  was  expected  from  the  munificence 
of  the  Company ; and  professors  thoroughly 
competent  to  interpret  Hafiz  and  Ferdusi  were 
to  be  engaged  in  the  East.  Hastings  called 
on  Johnson,  with  the  hope,  as  it  should  seem, 
of  interesting  in  this  project  a man  who  enjoyed 
the  highest  literary  reputation,  and  who  was 
particularly  connected  with  Oxford.  The  in- 
terview appears  to  have  left  on  Johnson’s 
mind  a most  favorable  impression  of  the  talents 
and  attainments  of  his  visitor,  Long  afte.r? 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


1 66 

when  Hastings  was  ruling  the  immense  popula- 
tion of  British  India,  the  old  philosopher  wrote 
to  him,  and  referred  in  the  most  courtly  terms, 
though  with  great  dignity,  to  their  short  but 
agreeable  intercourse. 

Hastings  soon  began  again  to  look  towards 
India.  He  had  little  to  attach  him  to  England  ; 
and  his  pecuniary  embarrassments  were  great. 
He  solicited  his  old  masters  the  Directors  for 
employment.  They  acceded  to  his  request, 
with  high  compliments  both  to  his  ability  and 
to  his  integrity,  and  appointed  him  a Member 
of  Council  at  Madras.  It  would  be  unjust  not 
to  mention  that,  though  forced  to  borrow  money 
for  his  outfit,  he  did  not  withdraw  any  portion 
of  the  sum  which  he  had  appropriated  to  the 
relief  of  his  distressed  relations.  In  the  spring 
of  1769  he  embarked  on  board  of  the  Duke  of 
Grafton,  and  commenced  a voyage  distinguished 
by  incidents  which  might  furnish  matter  for  a 
novel. 

Among  the  passengers  in  the  Duke  of  Grafton 
was  a German  by  the  name  of  Imhoff.  He 
called  himself  a Baron  ; but  he  was  in  distressed 
circumstances,  and  was  going  out  to  Madras  as 
a portrait-painter,  in  the  hope  of  picking  up 
some  of  the  pagodas  which  were  then  lightly 
got  and  as  lightly  spent  by  the  English  in  India. 
The  Baron  was  accompanied  by  his  wife,  a 
native,  we  have  somewhere  read,  of  Archangel. 
This  young  woman,  who,  born  under  the  Arctic 
circle,  was  destined  to  play  the  part  of  a Queen 
under  the  tropic  of  Cancer,  had  an  agreeable 
person,  a cultivated  mind,  and.  manners  in  the 
highest  degree  engaging.  She  despised  her 
husband  heartily,  and,  as  the  s>tory  which  we 
have  to  tell  sufficiently  proves,  not  without 
reason.  She  was  interested  by  the  conversa- 
tion and  flattered  by  the  attentions  of  Hastings. 
The  situation  was  indeed  perilous.  No  place 
is  so  propitious  to  the  formation  either  of  close 
friendships  or  of  deadly  enmities  as  an  India- 
man,  There  are  very  few  people  who  do  not 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


167 

find  a voyage  which  lasts  several  months  in- 
supportably  dull.  Anything  is  welcome  which 
may  break  that  long  monotony,  a sail,  a shark, 
albatross,  a man  overboard.  Most  pas- 
sengers find  some  resource  in  eating  twice  as 
many  meals  as  on  land.  But  the  great  devices 
for  killing  the  time  are  quarrelling  and  flirting. 
The  facilities  for  both  these  exciting  pursuits 
are  great.  The  inmates  of  the  ship  are  thrown 
together  far  more  than  in  any  country-seat  or 
boarding-house.  None  can  escape  from  the 
rest  except  by  imprisoning  himself  in  a cell  in 
which  he  can  hardly  turn.  All  food,  all 
exercise,  is  taken  in  company.  Ceremony  is 
to  a great  extent  banished.  It  is  every  day  in 
the  power  of  a mischievous  person  to  inflict 
innumerable  annoyances.  It  is  every  day  in 
the  power  of  an  amiable  person  to  confer  little 
services.  It  not  seldom  happens  that  serious 
distress  and  danger  call  forth,  in  genuine 
beauty  and  deformity,  heroic  virtues  and  abject 
vices  which,  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  good 
society,  might  remain  during  many  years  un- 
known even  to  intimate  associates.  Under 
such  circumstances  met  Warren  Hastings  and 
the  Baroness  Imhoff,  two  persons  whose  accom- 
plishments would  have  attracted  notice  in  any 
court  of  Europe.  The  gentleman  had  no 
domestic  ties.  The  lady  was  tied  to  a husband 
for  whom  she  had  no  regard,  and  who  had  no 
regard  for  his  honor.  An  attachment  sprang 
up,  which  was  soon  strengthened  by  events 
such  as  could  hardly  have  occurred  on  land. 
Hastings  fell  ill.  The  Baroness  nursed  him 
with  womanly  tenderness,  gave  him  his  medi- 
cines with  her  own  hand,  and  even  set  up  in 
his  cabin  while  he  slept.  Long  before  the 
Duke  of  Grafton  reached  Madras,  Hastings 
was  in  love.  But  his  love  was  of  a most 
characteristic  description.  Like  his  hatred, 
like  his  ambition,  like  all  his  passions,  it  was 
strong  but  not  impetuous.  It  was  calm,  deep, 
earnest,  patient  of  delay,  unconquerable  by 


i68 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


time.  Imhoff  was  called  into  council  by  his 
wife  and  his  wife’s  lover.  It  was  arranged 
that  the  Baroness  should  institute  a suit  for  a 
divorce  in  the  courts  of  Franconia,  that  the 
Baron  should  afford  every  facility  to  the  pro- 
ceeding, and  that,  during  the  years  which  might 
elapse  before  the  sentence  should  be  pro- 
nounced, they  should  continue  to  live  together. 
It  was  also  agreed  that  Hastings  should  bestow 
some  very  substantial  marks  of  gratitude  on 
the  complaisant  husband,  and  should,  when 
the  marriage  was  dissolved,  make  the  lady  his 
wife,  and  adopt  the  children  whom  she  had 
already  borne  to  Imhoff. 

At  Madras,  Hastings  found  the  trade  of  the 
Company  in  a very  disorganized  state.  His 
own  tastes  would  have  led  him  rather  to  politi- 
cal than  to  commercial  pursuits:  but  he  knew 
that  the  favor  of  his  employers  depended  chiefly 
on  their  dividends,  and  that  their  dividends 
depended  chiefly  on  the  investment.  He, 
therefore,  with  great  judgment,  determined  to 
apply  his  vigorous  mind  for  a time  to  this  de- 
partment of  business,  which  had  been  much 
neglected,  since  the  servants  of  the  Company 
had  ceased  to  be  clerks,  and  had  become 
warriors  and  negotiators. 

In  a very  few  months  he  effected  an  impor- 
tant reform,  The  Directors  notified  to  him 
their  high  approbation,  and  were  so  much 
pleased  with  his  conduct  that  they  determined 
to  place  him  at  the  head  of  the  government  of 
Bengal.  Early  in  1772  he  quitted  Fort  St. 
George  for  his  new  post.  The  Imhoffs,  who 
were  still  man  and  wife,  accompanied  him,  and 
lived  at  Calcutta  on  the  same  plan  which  they 
had  already  followed  during  more  than  two 
years. 

When  Hastings  took  his  seat  at  the  head  of 
the  council  board  Bengal  was  still  governed 
according  to  the  system  which  Clive  had  de- 
vised, a system  which  was,  perhaps,  skilfully 
contrived  for  the  purpose  of  facilitating  and 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


169 

concealing  a great  revolution,  but  which,  when 
that  revolution  was  complete  and  irrevocable, 
could  produce  nothing  but  inconvenience. 
There  were  two  governments,  the  real  and  the 
ostensible.  The  supreme  power  belonged  to 
the  Company,  and  was  in  truth  the  most  des- 
potic power  that  can  be  conceived.  The  only 
restraint  on  the  English  masters  of  the  country 
was  that  which  their  own  justice  and  humanity 
imposed  on  them.  There  was  no  constitutional 
check  on  their  will,  and  resistance  to  them  was 
utterly  hopeless. 

But  though  thus  absolute  in  reality,  the 
English  had  not  yet  assumed  the  style  of  sover- 
eignty. They  held  their  territories  as  vassals 
of  the  throne  of  Delhi;  they  raised  their 
revenues  as  collectors  appointed  bv  the  imperial 
commission  ; the  public  seal  was  inscribed  with 
the  imperial  titles  ; and  their  mint  struck  only 
the  imperial  coin. 

There  was  still  a nabob  of  Bengal,  who  stood 
to  the  English  rulers  of  his  country  in  the  same 
relation  in  which  Augustulus  stood  to  Odoacer, 
or  the  last  Merovingians  to  Charles  Martel  and 
Pepin.  He  lived  at  Moorshedabad,  surrounded 
by  princely  magnificence.  He  was  approached 
with  outward  marks  of  reverence,  and  his  name 
was  used  in  public  instruments.  But  in  the 
government  of  the  country  he  had  less  real 
share  than  the  youngest  writer  or  cadet  in  the 
Company’s  service. 

The  English  Council  which  represented  the 
Company  at  Calcutta  was  constituted  on  a very 
different  plan  from  that  which  has  since  been 
adopted.  At  present  the  Governor  is,  as  to  all 
executive  measures,  absolute.  Pie  can  declare 
war,  conclude  peace,  appoint  public  function- 
aries or  remove  them,  in  opposition  to  the 
unanimous  sense  of  those  who  sit  with  him  in 
council.  They  are,  indeed,  entitled  to  know 
all  that  is  done,  to  discuss  all  that  is  done,  to 
advise,  to  remonstrate,  to  send  protests  to 
England.  But  it  is  with  the  Governor  that  the 


170 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


supreme  power  resides,  and  on  him  that  the 
whole  responsibility  rests.  This  system,  which 
was  introduced  by  Mr.  Pitt  and  Mr.  Dundas  in 
spite  of  the  strenuous  opposition  of  Mr.  Burke, 
we  conceive  to  be  on  the  whole  the  best  that 
was  ever  devised  for  the  government  of  a 
country  where  no  materials  can  be  found  for  a 
representative  constitution.  In  the  time  of 
Hastings  the  Governor  had  oniy  one  vote  in 
council,  and,  in  case  of  an  equal  division  a 
casting  vote.  It  therefore  happened  not  un- 
frequently  that  he  was  overruled  in  the  gravest 
questions ; and  it  was  possible  that  he  might 
be  wholly  excluded,  for  years  together,  from 
the  real  direction  of  public  affairs. 

The  English  functionaries  at  Fort  William 
had  as  yet  paid  little  or  no  attention  to  the  in- 
ternal government  of  Bengal.  The  only  branch 
of  politics  about  which  they  much  busied  them- 
selves was  negotiated  with  native  princes.  The 
police,  the  administration  of  justice,  the  details 
of  the  collection  of  revenue,  were  almost  en- 
tirely neglected.  We  may  remark  that  the 
phraseology  of  the  Company’s  servants  still 
bears  the  traces  of  this  state  of  things.  To 
this  day  they  always  use  the  word  “ political  ” 
as  synonymous  with  “ diplomatic.”  We  could 
name  a gentleman  still  living,  who  was  de- 
scribed by  the  highest  authority  as  an  invalu- 
able public  servant,  eminently  fit  to  be  at  the 
head  of  the  internal  administration  of  a whole 
presidency,  but  unfortunately  quite  ignorant  of 
all  political  business. 

The  internal  government  of  Bengal  the  Eng- 
lish rulers  delegated  to  a great  native  minister, 
who  was  stationed  at  Moorshedabad.  All  mil- 
itary affairs,  and  with  the  exception  of  what 
pertains  to  mere  ceremonial,  all  foreign  affairs, 
were  withdrawn  from  his  control ; but  the  other 
departments  of  the  administration  were  en- 
tirely confided  to  him.  His  own  stipend 
amounted  to  near  a hundred  thousand  pounds 
sterling  a year.  The  personal  allowance  of 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


171 

the  nabob,  amounting  to  more  than  three  hun- 
dred thousand  pounds  a year,  passed  through 
the  minister’s  hands  and  was,  to  a great  ex- 
tent, at  his  disposal.  The  collection  of 
the  revenue,  the  administration  of  justice, 
the  maintenance  of  order,  were  left  to  this  high 
functionary ; and  for  the  exercise  of  his  im- 
mense power  he  was  responsible  to  none  but 
the  British  masters  of  the  country. 

A situation  so  important,  lucrative,  and 
splendid,  was  naturally  an  object  of  ambition 
to  the  ablest  and  most  powerful  natives.  Clive 
had  found  it  difficult  to  decide  between  con- 
flicting pretensions.  Two  candidates  stood 
out  prominently  from  the  crowd,  each  of  them 
the  representative  of  a race  and  of  a religion. 

One  of  these  was  Mahommed  Reza  Khan,  a 
Mussulman  of  Persian  extraction,  able,  active, 
religious  after  the  fashion  of  his  people,  and 
highly  esteemed  by  them.  In  England  he 
might  perhaps  have  been  regarded  as  a corrupt 
and  greedy  politician.  But,  tried  by  the  lower 
standard  of  Indian  morality,  he  might  be  con- 
sidered as  a man  of  integrity  and  honor. 

His  competitor  was  a Hindoo  Brahmin 
whose  name  has,  by  a terrible  and  melancholy 
event,  been  inseparably  associated  with  that  of 
Warren  Hastings,  the  Maharajah  Nuncomar. 
This  man  had  played  an  important  part  in  all 
the  revolutions  which,  since  the  time  of  Sura- 
jah  Dowlah,  had  taken  place  in  Bengal.  To 
the  consideration  which  in  that  country  be- 
longs to  high  and  pure  caste,  he  added  the 
weight  which  is  derived  from  wealth,  talents, 
and  experience.  Of  his  moral  character  it  is 
difficult  to  give  a notion  to  those  who  are  ac- 
quainted with  human  nature  onlv  as  it  appears 
in  our  island.  What  the  Italian  is  to  the  Eng- 
lishman, what  the  Hindoo  is  to  the  Italian, 
what  the  Bengalee  is  to  other  Hindoos,  that 
was  Nuncomar  to  other  Bengalees.  The  phys- 
ical organization  of  the  Bengalee  is  feeble  even 
to  effeminacy.  He  lives  in  a constant  vapor 


172 


B/OCRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


bath.  His  pursuits  are  sedentary,  his  limbs 
delicate,  his  movements  languid.  During 
many  ages  he  has  been  trampled  upon  bv  men 
of  bolder  and  more  hardy  breeds.  Courage, 
independence,  veracity,  aie  qualities  to  which 
his  constitution  and  his  situation  are  equally 
unfavorable.  His  mind  bears  a singular  anal- 
ogy to  his  body.  It  is  weak  even  to  helpless- 
ness for  purposes  of  manly  resistance  ; but  its 
suppleness  and  its  tact  move  the  children  of 
sterner  climates  to  admiration  not  unmingled 
with  contempt.  All  those  arts  which  are  the 
natural  defence  of  the  weak  are  more  familiar 
to  this  subtle  race  than  to  the  Ionian  of  the 
time  of  Juvenal,  or  to  the  Jew  of  the  dark  ages. 
What  the  horns  are  to  the  buffalo,  what  the 
paw  is  to  the  tiger,  what  the  sting  is  to  the  bee, 
what  beauty,  according  to  the  old  Greek  song, 
is  to  woman,  deceit  is  to  the  Bengalee.  Large 
promises,  smooth  excuses,  elaborate  tissues  of 
circumstantial  falsehood,  chicanery,  perjury, 
forgerv,  are  the  weapons,  offensive  and  defen- 
sive, of  the  people  of  the  Lower  Ganges.  All 
those  millions  do  not  furnish  one  sepov  to 
the  armies  of  the  Company.  But  as  usurers, 
as  monev-changers,  as  sharp  legal  practition- 
ers, no  class  of  human  beings  can  bear  a com- 
parison to  them.  With  all  his  softness,  the 
Bengalee  is  by  no  means  placable  in  his  enmi- 
ties or  prone  to  pity.  The  pertinacity  with 
which  he  adheres  to  his  purposes  yields  only  to 
the  immediate  pressure  of  fear.  Nor  does  he 
lack  a certain  kind  of  courage  which  is  often 
wanting  to  his  masters.  To  inevitable  evils  he 
is  sometimes  found  to  oppose  a passive  forti- 
tude, such  as  the  Stoics  attributed  to  their 
ideal  sage.  An  European  warrior  who  rushes 
on  a battery  of  cannon  with  a loud  hurrah,  will 
sometimes  shriek  under  the  surgeon’s  knife, 
and  fall  into  an  agony  of  despair  at  the  sen- 
tence of  death.  But  the  Bengalee,  who  would 
see  his  country  overrun,  his  house  laid  in  ashes, 
his  children  murdered  or  dishonored,  without 


WARREN ’ HASTINGS. 


*73 


having  the  spirit  to  strike  one  blow,  has  yet 
been  known  to  endure  torture  with  the  firmness 
of  Mucius,  and  to  mount  the  scatfold  with  the 
steady  step  and  even  pulse  of  Algernon  Sid- 
ney. 

In  Nuncomar,  the  national  character  was 
strongly  and  with  exaggeration  personified. 
The  company’s  servants  had  repeatedly  de- 
tected him  in  the  most  criminal  intrigues.  On 
one  occasion  he  brought  a false  charge  against 
another  Hindoo,  and  tried  so  substantiate  it  by 
producing  forged  documents.  On  another  oc- 
casion it  was  discovered  that  while  professing 
the  strongest  attachment  to  the  English,  he 
was  engaged  in  several  conspiracies  against 
them,  and  in  particular  that  he  was  the  medium 
of  a correspondence  between  the  court  of  Delhi 
and  the  French  authorities  in  the  Carnatic. 
For  these  and  similar  practices  he  had  been 
long  detained  in  confinement.  But  his  talents 
and  influence  had  not  only  procured  his  liber- 
ation, but  had  obtained  for  him  a certain  de- 
gree of  consideration  even  among  the  British 
rulers  of  his  country. 

Clive  was  extremely  unwilling  to  place  a Mus- 
sulman at  the  head  of  the  administration  of 
Bengal.  On  the  other  hand,  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  confer  immense  power  on  a man  to 
whom  everv  sort  of  villany  had  been  repeatedly 
brought  home.  Therefore,  though  the  nabob, 
over  whom  Nuncomar  had  by  intrigue  acquired 
great  influence,  begged  that  the  artful  Hindoo 
might  be  intrusted  with  the  government,  Clive, 
after  some  hesitation,  decided  honestly  and 
wisely  in  favor  of  Mahommed  Reza  Khan. 
When  Hastings  became  Governor,  Mahommed 
Reza  Khan  had  held  power  seven  years.  An 
infant  son  of  Meer  Jaffier  was  now-  nabob;  and 
the  guardianship  of  the  young  prince’s  person 
had  been  confided  to  the  minister. 

Nuncomar.  stimulated  at  once  by  cupidity  and 
malice,  had  been  constantly  attempting  to  hurt 
the  reputation  of  his  successful  rival.  This 


174  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

was  not  difficult.  ~ The  revenues  of  Bengal, 
under  the  administration  established  by  Clive, 
did  not  yield  such  a surplus  as  had  been  anti- 
cipated by  the  Company  ; for,  at  that  time,  the 
most  absurd  notions  were  entertained  in  Eng- 
land respecting  the  wealth  of  India.  Palaces 
of  porphyry,  hung  with  the  richest  brocade, 
heaps  of  pearls  and  diamonds,  vaults  from  which 
pagodas  of  gold  and  mohurs  were  measured  out 
by  the  bushel,  filled  the  imagination  even  of 
men  of  business.  Nobody  seemed  to  be  aware 
of  what  nevertheless  was  most  undoubtedly  the 
truth,  that  India  was  a poorer  country  than 
countries  which  in  Europe  are  reckoned  poor, 
than  Ireland,  for  example,  or  than  Portugal. 
It  was  confidently  believed  by  Lords  of  the 
Treasury  and  members  for  the  city  that  Bengal 
would  not  only  defray  its  own  charges,  but 
would  afford  an  increased  dividend  to  the  pro- 
prietors of  India  stock,  and  large  relief  to  the 
English  finances.  These  absurd  expectations 
were  disappointed  ; and  the  Directors,  natur- 
ally enough,  chose  to  attribute  the  disappoint- 
ment rather  to  the  mismanagement  of  Mahom- 
med  Reza  Kahn  than  to  their  own  ignorance  of 
the  country  intrusted  to  their  care.  They  were 
confirmed  in  their  error  by  the  agents  of  Nunco- 
mar  ; for  Nuncomar  had  agents  even  in  Lead- 
enhall  Street.  Soon  after  Hastings  reached 
Calcutta,  he  received  a letter  addressed  by  the 
Court  of  Directors,  not  to  the  Council  generally, 
but  to  himself  in  particular.  He  was  directed 
to  remove  Mahommed  Reza  Kahn,  to  arrest 
him  together  with  all  his  family  and  all  his 
partisans,  and  to  institute  a strict  inquiry  into 
the  whole  administration  of  the  province.  It 
was  added  that  the  Governor  would  do  well  to 
avail  himself  of  the  assistance  of  Nuncomar  in 
the  investigation.  The  viceS  of  Nuncomar 
were  acknowledged.  But  even  from  his  vices, 
it  was  said,  much  advantage  might  at  such  a 
conjuncture  be  derived ; and,  though  he  could 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


*75 

not  be  safely  trusted,  it  might  still  be  proper 
to  encourage  him  by  hopes  of  reward. 

The  Governor  bore  no  good  will  to  Nun- 
comar.  Many  years  before  they  had  known 
each  other  at  Moorshedabad  ; and  then  a quar- 
rel had  arisen  between  them  which  all  the 
authority  of  their  superiors  could  hardly  com- 
pose. Widely  as  they  differed  in  most  points, 
they  resembled  each  other  in  this,  that  both 
were  men  of  unforgiving  natures.  To  Mahom- 
med  Reza  Kahn,  on  the  other  hand,  Hastings 
had  no  feelings  of  hostility.  Nevertheless  he 
proceeded  to  execute  the  instructions  of  the 
Company  with  an  alacrity  which  he  never 
showed,  except  when  instructions  were  in  perfect 
conformity  with  his  own  views.  He  had  wisely 
as  we  think,  determined  to  get  rid  of  the  system 
of  double  government  in  Bengal.  The  orders 
of  the  directors  furnished  him  with  the  means 
of  effecting  his  purpose,  and  dispensed  him 
from  the  necessity  of  discussing  the  matter 
with  his  Council.  He  took  his  measures  with 
his  usual  vigor  and  dexterity.  At  midnight,  the 
palace  of  Mahommed  Reza  Khan  at  Moorsheda- 
bad was  surrounded  by  a battalion  of  sepoy.  The 
minister  was  roused  from  his  slumbers  and  in- 
formed that  he  was  a prisoner.  With  the  Mus- 
sulman gravity,  he  bent  his  head  and  submitted 
himself  to  the  will  of  God.  He  fell  not  alone. 
A chief  named  Schitab  Roy  had  been  intrusted 
with  the  government  of  Bahar.  His  valor  and 
his  attachment  to  the  English  had  more  than 
once  been  signally  proved.  On  that  memorable 
dav  on  which  the  people  of  Patna  saw  from  their 
wall  the  whole  army  of  the  Mogul  scattered  by 
the  little  band  of  Captain  Knox,  the  voice  of 
the  British  conquerors  assigned  the  palm  of 
gallantry  to  the  brave  Asiatic.  “ I never,” 
said  Knox,  when  he  introduced  Schitab  Roy, 
covered  with  blood  and  dust,  to  the  English 
functionaries  assembled  in  the  factory,  “ I 
never  saw  a native  fight  so  before.”  Schitab 
Roy  was  involved  in  the  ruin  of  Mahommed 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


176 

Reza  Kahn,  was  removed  from  office  and  was 
placed  under  arrest.  The  members  of  the 
Council  received  no  intimation  of  these  meas- 
ures till  the  prisoners  were  on  their  road  to 
Calcutta.  j 

The  inquiry  into  the  conduct  of  the  min-/ 
ister  was  postponed  on  different  pretences, 
he  was  detained  in  an  easy  confinement  during 
many  months.  In  the  mean  time,  the  great 
revolution  which  Hastings  had  planned  was 
carried  into  effect.  The  office  of  minister  was 
abolished.  The  internal  administration  was 
transferred  to  the  servants  of  the  Companv. 
A system,  a very  imperfect  system,  it  is  true, 
of  civil  and  criminal  justice,  under  English 
superintendence,  was  established.  The  nabob 
was  no  longer  to  have  even  an  ostensible  share 
in  the  government;  but  he  was  still  to  receive 
a considerable  annual  allowance,  and  to  be 
surrounded  with  the  state  of  sovereignty.  As 
he  was  an  infant,  it  was  necessary  to  provide 
guardians  for  his  person  and  property.  His 
person  was  intrusted  to  a lady  of  his  father’s 
harem,  known  by  the  name  of  Munny  Begum. 
The  office  of  treasurer  of  the  household  was 
bestowed  on  a son  of  Nuncomar,  named  Goor- 
das.  Nuncomar’s  services  were  wanted;  yet 
he  could  not  safely  be  trusted  with  power ; 
and  Hastings  thought  it  a masterstroke  of  pol- 
icy to  reward  the  able  and  unprincipled  parent 
by  promoting  the  inoffensive  child. 

The  revolution  completed,  the  double  gov- 
ernment dissolved,  the  Company  installed  in 
the  full  sovereignty  of  Bengal,  Hastings  had  no 
motive  to  treat  the  late  ministers  with  rigor. 
Their  trial  had  been  put  off  on  various  pleas 
till  the  new  organization  was  complete.  They 
were  then  brought  before  a committee,  over 
which  the  Governor  presided.  Schitab  Roy 
was  speedily  acquitted  with  honor.  A formal 
apology  was  made  to  him  for  the  restraint  to 
which  he  had  been  subjected.  All  the  Eastern 
marks  of  respect  were  bestowed  on  him.  He 


WARREN  NAS  TINGS. 


*77 


was  clothed  in  a robe  of  state,  presented  with 
jewels  and  with  a richly  harnessed  elephant, 
and  sent  back  to  his  government  at  Patna. 
But  his  health  had  suffered  from  confinement ; 
his  high  spirit  had  been  cruelly  wounded  ; and 
soon  after  his  liberation  he  died  of  a broken 
heart. 

The  innocence  of  Mahommed  Reza  Kahn 
was  not  so  clearly  established.  But  the  Gov- 
ernor was  not  disposed  to  deal  harshly.  After 
a long  hearing,  in  which  Nuncomar  appeared 
as  the  accuser,  and  displayed  both  the  art  and 
the  inveterate  rancor  which  distinguished  him, 
Hastings  pronounced  that  the  charge  had  not 
been  made  out,  and  ordered  the  fallen  minister 
to  be  set  at  liberty. 

Nuncomar  had  purposed  to  destroy  the  Mus- 
sulman administration,  and  to  rise  on  its  ruin. 
Both  his  malevolence  and  his  cupidity  had  been 
disappointed.  Hastings  had  made  him  a 
tool,  had  used  him  for  the  purpose  of  accom- 
plishing the  transfer  of  the  government  from 
Moorshedabad  to  Calcutta,  from  native  to 
European  hands.  The  rival,  the  enemy,  so 
long  envied,  so  implacably  persecuted,  had 
been  dismissed  unhurt.  The  situation  so  long 
and  ardently  desired  had  been  abolished.  It 
was  natural  that  the  Governor  should  be  from 
that  time  an  object  of  the  most  intense  hatred 
to  the  vindictive  Brahmin.  As  yet,  however, 
it  was  necessary  to  suppress  such  feelings.  The 
time  was  coming  when  that  long  animosity  was 
to  end  in  a desperate  and  deadly  struggle. 

In  the  mean  time,  Hastings  was  compelled 
to  turn  his  attention  to  foreign  affairs.  The 
object  of  his  diplomacy  was  at  this  time  simply 
to  get  money.  The  finances  of  his  govern- 
ment were  in  an  embarrassed  state,  and  this 
embarrassment  he  was  determined  to  re- 
lieve bv  some  means,  fair  or  foul.  The  prin 
ciple  which  directed  all  his  dealings  with 
his  neighbors  is  fully  expressed  by  the  old 
motto  of  one  of  the  great  predatory  families  of 


I7g  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

Teviotdale,  “ Thou  shalt  want  ere  I want.” 
He  seems  to  have  laid  it  down,  as  a funda- 
mental proposition  which  could  not  be  dis- 
puted, that,  when  he  had  not  as  many  lacs  of 
rupees  as  the  public  service  required,  he  was 
to  take  them  from  anybody  who  had.  One 
thing,  indeed,  is  to  be  said  in  excuse  for  him. 
The  pressure  applied  to  him  by  his  employers 
at  home,  was  such  that  only  the  highest  virtue 
could  have  withstood,  such  as  left  him  no  choice 
except  to  commit  great  wrongs,  or  to  resign 
his  high  post,  and  with  that  post  all  his  hopes 
of  fortune  and  distinction.  The  Directors,  it 
is  true,  never  enjoined  or  applauded  any  crime. 
Far  from  it.  Whoever  examines  their  letters 
written  at  that  time  will  find  there  many  just 
and  humane  sentiments,  many  excellent  pre- 
cepts, in  short,  an  admirable  code  of  political 
ethics.  But  every  exhortation  is  modified  or 
nullified  by  a demand  of  money.  “ Govern 
leniently,  and  send  more  money  ; practice  strict 
justice  and  moderation  towards  neighboring 
powers,  and  send  more  money  ; ” this  is  in 
truth  the  sum  of  almost  all  the  instructions 
that  Hastings  ever  received  from  home.  Now 
these  instructions,  being  interpreted,  mean 
simply,  “ Be  the  father  and  the  oppressor  of 
the  people  ; be  just  and  unjust,  moderate  and 
rapacious.”  The  Directors  dealt  with  India, 
as  the  church,  in  the  good  old  times,  dealt  with 
a heretic.  They  delivered  the  victim  over  to 
the  executioners,  with  an  earnest  request  that 
all  possible  tenderness  might  be  shown.  We 
by  no  means  accuse  or  suspect  those  who 
framed  these  despatches  of  hypocrisy.  It  is 
probable  that,  writing  fifteen  thousand  miles 
from  the  place  where  their  orders  were  to  be 
carried  into  effect,  they  never  perceived  the 
gross  inconsistency  of  which  they  were  guilty. 
But  the  inconsistency  was  at  once  manifest  to 
their  vicegerent  at  Calcutta,  who,  with  an 
empty  treasury,  with  an  unpaid  army,  with  his 
own  salary  often  in  arrear,  with  deficient  crops, 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


179 


with  government  tenants  daily  running  away, 
was  called  upon  to  remit  home  another  half 
million  without  fail.  Hastings  saw  that  it  was 
absolutely  necessary  for  him  to  disregard  either 
the  moral  discourses  or  the  pecuniary  requisi- 
tions of  his  employers.  Being  forced  to  dis- 
obey them  in  something,  he  had  to  consider 
what  kind  of  disobedience  they  would  most 
readily  pardon  ; and  he  correctly  judged  that 
the  safest  course  would  be  to  neglect  the  ser- 
mons and  find  the  rupees. 

A mind  so  fertile  as  his,  and  so  little  re- 
strained by  conscientious  scruples,  speedily  dis- 
covered several  modes  of  relieving  the  financial 
embarrassments  of  the  government.  The  allow- 
ance of  the  Nabob  of  Bengal  was  reduced  at  a 
stroke  from  three  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
pounds  a year  to  half  that  sum.  The  Company 
had  bound  itself  to  pay  near  three  hundred 
thousand  pounds  a year  to  the  Great  Mogul, 
as  a mark  of  homage  for  the  provinces  which 
he  had  intrusted  to  their  care  ; and  they  had 
ceded  to  him  the  districts  of  Corah  and  Alla- 
habad. On  the  plea  that  the  Mogul  was  not 
really  independent,  but  merely  a tool  in  the 
hands  of  others,  Hastings  determined  to  re- 
tract these  concessions.  He  accordingly  de- 
clared that  the  English  would  pay  no  more 
tribute,  and  sent  troops  to  occupy  Allahabad 
and  Corah.  The  situation  of  these  places  was 
such,  that  there  would  be  little  advantage  and 
great  expense  in  retaining  them.  Hastings, 
who  wanted  money  and  not  territory,  deter- 
mined to  sell  them.  A purchaser  was  not 
wanting.  The  rich  province  of  Oude  had,  in 
the  general  dissolution  of  the  Mogul  Empire, 
fallen  to  the  share  of  the  great  Mussulman 
house  by  which  it  is  still  governed.  About 
twenty  years  ago,  this  house,  by  the  permission 
of  the  British  government,  assumed  the  royal 
title ; but  in  the  time  of  Warren  Hastings  such 
an  assumption  would  have  been  considered  by 
the  Mahommedans  of  India  as  a monstrous  im- 


i8o 


biographical  essays. 


piety.  The  Prince  of  Oude,  though  he  held 
the  power,  did  not  venture  to  use  the  stvle  of 
sovereignty.  To  the  appellation  of  Nabob  or 
Viceroy,  he  added  that  of  Vizier  of  the  mon- 
archy of  Hindostan,  just  as  in  the  last  century 
the  Electors  of  Saxony  and  Brandenburg, 
though  independent  of  the  Emperor,  and  often 
in  arms  against  him  were  proud  to  style  them- 
selves his  Grand  Chamberlain  and  Grand  Mar- 
shal. Sujah  Dowlah,  then  Nabob  Vizier,  was 
on  excellent  terms  with  the  English.  He  had 
a large  treasure.  Allahabad  and  Corah  were 
so  situated  that  they  might  be  of  use  to  him 
and  could  be  of  none  to  the  Company.  The 
buyer  and  seller  soon  came  to  an  understand- 
ing ; and  the  provinces  which  had  been  torn  from 
the  Mogul  were  made  over  to  the  government 
of  Oude  for  about  half  a million  sterling. 

But  there  was  another  matter  still  more  im- 
portant to  be  settled  by  the  Vizier  and  the 
Governor.  The  fate  of  a brave  people  was  to 
be  decided.  It  was  decided  in  a manner 
which  has  left  a lasting  stain  on  the  fame  of 
Hastings  and  of  England. 

The  people  of  Central  Asia  had  always  been 
to  the  inhabitants  of  India  what  the  warriors  of 
the  German  forests  were  to  the  subject  of  the 
decaving  monarchy  of  Rome.  The  dark,  slender, 
and  timid  Hindoo  shrank  from  a conflict  with 
the  strong  muscle  and  resolute  spirit  of  the  fair 
race,  which  dwelt  beyond  the  passes.  There  is 
reason  to  believe  that,  at  a period  anterior  to 
the  dawn  of  regular  history,  the  people  who 
spoke  the  rich  and  flexible  Sanscrit  came  from 
regions  lying  far  beyond  the  Hyphasis  and  the 
Hvstaspes,  and  imposed  their  yoke  on  the 
children  of  the  soil.  It  is  certain  that,  during 
the  last  ten  centuries,  a-succession  of  invaders 
descended  from  the  west  on  Hindostan  ; nor 
was  the  course  of  conquest  ever  turned  back 
towards  the  setting  sun,  till  that  memorable 
campaign  in  which  the  cross  of  Saint  George 
was  planted  on  the  walls  of  Ghizni. 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


181 

The  Emperors  of  Hindostan  themselves  came 
from  the  other  side  of  the  Great  Mountain 
ridge  ; and  it  had  always  been  their  practice  to 
recruit  their  army  from  the  hardy  and  valiant 
race  from  which  their  own  illustrious  house 
sprang.  Among  the  military  adventurers  who 
were  allured  to  the  Mogul  standards  from  the 
neighborhood  of  Cabul  and  Candahar,  were 
conspicuous  several  gallant  bands,  known  by 
the  name  of  Rohillas.  Their  services  had  been 
rewarded  with  large  tracts  of  land,  fiefs  of  the 
spear,  if  we  may  use  an  expression  drawn  frem 
an  analogous  state  of  things,  in  that  fertile 
plain  through  which  the  Ramgunga  flows  from 
the  snowy  heights  of  Kumaon  to  join  the 
Ganges.  In  the  general  confusion  which 
followed  the  death  of  Aurungzebe,  the  warlike 
colony  became  virtually  independent.  The 
Rohillas  were  distinguished  from  the  other  in- 
habitants of  India  by  .a  peculiarly  fair  com- 
plexion. They  were  more  honorably  distin- 
guished by  courage  in  war,  and  by  skill  in  the 
arts  of  peace.  While  anarchy  raged  from 
Lahore  to  Cape  Comorin,  their  little  territory 
enjoyed  the  blessings  of  repose  under  the 
guardianship  of  valor.  Agriculture  and  com- 
merce flourished  among  them  ; nor  were  they 
negligent  of  rhetoric  and  poetry.  Many  persons 
now  living  have  heard  aged  men  talk  with 
regret  of  the  golden  days  when  the  Afghan 
princes  ruled  in  the  vale  cf  Rohilcund. 

Sujah  Dowlah  had  set  his  heart  on  adding 
this  rich  district  to  his  own  principality.  Right, 
or  show  of  right,  he  had  absolutely  none.  His 
claim  was  in  no  respect  better  founded  than 
that  of  Catherine  to  Poland,  or  that  of  the 
Bonaparte  family  to  Spain.  The  Rohillas  held 
their  country  by  exactly  the  same  tide  by  which 
he  held  his,  and  had  governed  their  country  far 
better  than  his  had  ever  been  governed.  Nor 
were  they  a people  whom  it  was  perfectly  safe 
to  attack.  Their  land  was  indeed  an  open 
plain  destitute  of  natural  defences  ; but  their 


1 82 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


veins  were  full  of  the  high  blood  of  Afghanis- 
tan.  As  soldiers,  they  had  not  the  steadiness 
which  is  seldom  found  except  in  company  with 
strict  discipline  ; but  their  impetuous  valor  had 
been  proved  on  many  fields  of  battle.  It  was 
said  that  their  chiefs,  when  united  by  common 
peril,  could  bring  eighty  thousand  men  into  the 
field.  Sujah  Dowlah  had  himself  seen  them 
fight,  and  wisely  shrank  from  a conflict  with 
them.  There  was  in  India  one  army,  and  only 
one,  against  which  even  those  proud  Caucasian 
tribes  could  not  stand.  It  had  been  abundantly 
proved  that  neither  tenfold  odds,  nor  the 
martial  ardor  of  the  boldest  Asiatic  nations, 
could  avail  aught  against  English  science  and 
resolution.  Was  it  possible  to  induce  the 
Governor  of  Bengal  to  let  out  to  hire  the  irre- 
sistible energies  of  the  imperial  people,  the  skill 
against  which  the  ablest  chiefs  of  Hindostan 
were  helpless  as  infants,  the  discipline  which 
had  so  often  triumphed  over  the  frantic  strug- 
gles of  fanaticism  and  despair,  the  unconquer- 
able British  courage  which  is  never  so  sedate 
and  stubborn  as  toward  the  close  of  a doubtful 
and  murderous  day? 

This  was  what  the  Nabob  Vizier  asked,  and 
what  Hastings  granted.  A bargain  was  soon 
struck.  Each  of  the  negotiators  had  what  the 
other  wanted.  Hastings  was  in  need  of  funds 
to  carry  on  the  government  of  Bengal,  and  to 
send  remittances  to  London  ; and  Sujah  Dow- 
lah had  an  ample  revenue.  Sujah  Dowlah  was 
bent  on  subjugating  the  Rohillas  ; and  Hast- 
ings had  at  his  disposal  the  only  force  by  which 
the  Rohillas  could  be  subjugated.  It  was 
agreed  that  an  English  army  should  be  lent  to 
the  Nabob  Vizier,  and  that,  for  the  loan,  he 
should  pay  four  hundred  thousand  pounds 
sterling,  besides  defraying  all  the  charge  of 
the  troops  while  employed  in  his  service. 

“ I really  cannot  see,”  says  Mr.  Gleig,  “ upon 
what  grounds,  either  of  political  or  moral  jus- 
tice, this  proposition  deserves  to  be  stigmatized 


WARREN7  HA S TINGS.  ^3 

as  infamous.”  If  we  understand  the  meaning 
of  words,  it  is  infamous  to  commit  a wicked 
action  for  hire,  and  it  is  wicked  to  engage  in 
war  without  provocation.  In  this  particular 
war,  scarcely  one  aggravating  circumstance  was 
wanting.  The  object  of  the  Rohilla  war  was 
this,  to  deprive  a large  population,  who  had 
never  done  us  the  least  harm,  of  a good  govern- 
ment, and  to  place  them,  against  their  will, 
under  an  execrably  bad  one.  Nay,  even  this 
is  not  all.  England  now  descended  far  below 
the  level  even  of  those  petty  German  princes 
who,  about  the  same  time,  sold  us  troops  to 
fight  the  Americans.  The  hussar-mongers  of 
Hesse  and  Anspach  had  at  least  the  assurance 
that  the  expeditions  on  which  their  soldiers 
were  to  be  employed  would  be  conducted  in 
conformity  with  the  humane  rules  of  civilized 
warfare.  Was  the  Rohilla  war  likely  to  be 
so  conducted  ? Did  the  Governor  stipulate 
that  it  should  be  so  conducted  ? He  well  knew 
what  Indian  warfare  was.  He  well  knew  that 
the  power  which  he  covenanted  to  put  into 
Sujah  Dowlah’s  hands  would,  in  all  probability 
be  atrociously  abused  ; and  he  required  no 
guarantee,  no  promise  that  it  should  not  be  so 
abused.  He  did  not  even  reserve  to  himself 
the  right  of  withdrawing  his  aid  in  case  of 
abuse,  however  gross.  We  are  almost  ashamed 
to  notice  Major  Scott’s  plea,  that  Hastings  was 
justified  in  letting  out  English  troops  to 
slaughter  the  Rohillas,  because  the  Rohillas 
were  not  of  Indian  race,  but  a colony  from  a 
distant  country.  What  were  the  English  them- 
selves ? Was  it  for  them  to  proclaim  a crusade 
for  the  expulsion  of  all  intruders  from  the 
countries  watered  by  the  Ganges  ? Did  it  lie 
in  their  mouths  to  contend  that  a foreign  settler 
who  establishes  an  empire  in  India  is  a caput 
Ittpinum  1 What  would  they  have  said  if  any 
other  power  had,  on  such  a ground,  attacked 
Madras  or  Calcutta,  without  the  slightest  pro- 
vocation ? Such  a defence  was  wanting  to 


!$4  biographical  essays. 


make  the  infamy  of  the  transaction  complete. 
The  atrocity  of  the  crime,  and  the  hypocrisy  of 
the  apology,  are  worthy  of  each  other. 

One  of  the  three  brigades  of  which  the  Ben- 
gal army  consisted  was  sent  under  Colonel 
Champion  to  join  Sujah  Dowlah’s  forces.  The 
Rohillas  expostulated,  entreated,  offered  a large 
ransom,  but  in  vain.  They  then  resolved  to 
defend  themselves  to  the  last.  A bloody  battle 
was  fought.  “The  enemy,”  says  Colonel 
Champion,  “ gave  proof  of  a good  share  of 
military  knowledge  ; and  it  was  impossible  to 
describe  a more  obstinate  firmness  of  resolu- 
tion than  they  displayed.”  The  dastardly 
sovereign  of  Oude  fled  from  the  field.  The 
English  were  left  unsupported;  but  their  fire 
and  their  charge  were  irresistible.  It  was  not, 
however,  till  the  most  distinguished  chiefs  had 
fallen,  fighting  bravely  at  the  head  of  their 
troops,  that  the  Rohilla  ranks  gave  way.  Then 
the  Nabob  Vizier  and  his  rabble  made  their 
appearance,  and  hastened  to  plunder  the  camp 
of  the  valiant  enemies,  whom  they  had  never 
dared  to  look  in  the  face.  The  soldiers  of  the 
Company,  trained  in  an  exact  discipline,  kept 
unbroken  order,  while  the  tents  were  pillaged 
by  these  worthless  allies.  But  many  voices 
were  heard  to  exclaim,  “We  have  had  all  the 
fighting,  and  those  rogues  are  to  have  all  the 
profit.” 

Then  the  horrors  of  Indian  war  were  let 
loose  on  the  fair  valleys  and  cities  of  Rohil- 
cund.  The  whole  country  was  in  a blaze. 
More  than  a hundred  thousand  people  fled 
from  their  homes  to  pestilential  jungles,  pre- 
ferrinsr  famine,  and  fever,  and  the  haunts  of 
tigers,  to  the  tyranny  of  him,  to  whom  an  Eng- 
lish and  a Christian  government  had,  for  shame- 
ful lucre,  sold  their  substance,  and  their  blood, 
and  the  honor  of  their  wives  and  daughters. 
Colonel  Champion  remonstrated  with  the 
Nabob  Vizier,  and  sent  strong  representations 
to  Fort  William  ; but  the  Governor  had  made 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


185 

no  conditions  as  to  the  mode  in  which  the  war 
was  to  be  carried  on.  He  had  troubled  him- 
self about  nothing  but  his  forty  lacs  ; and, 
though  he  might  disapprove  of  Sujah  Dow  lairs 
wanton  barbarity,  he  did  not  think  himself  en- 
titled to  interfere,  except  by  offering  advice. 
This  delicacy  excites  the  admiration  of  the 
biographer.  “Mr.  Hastings.”  he  says,  “could 
not  himself  dictate  to  the  Nabob,  nor  permit 
the  commander  of  the  company’s  troops  to 
dictate  how  the  war  was  to  be  carried  on.” 
No,  to  be  sure.  Mr.  Hastings  had  only  to  put 
down  by  main  force  the  brave  struggles  of  in- 
nocent men  fighting  for  their  liberty.  Their 
military  resistance  crushed,  his  duties  ended  ; 
and  he  had  then  only  to  fold  his  arms  and  look 
on,  while  their  villages  were  burned,  their  chil- 
dren butchered,  and  their  women  violated. 
Will  Mr.  Gleig  seriously  maintain  this  opinion  ? 
Is  any  rule  more  plain  than  this,  that  whoever 
voluntarily  gives  to  another  irresistible  power 
over  human  beings  is  bound  to  take  order  that 
such  power  shall  not  be  barbarously  abused  ? 
But  we  beg  pardon  of  our  readers  for  arguing 
a point  so  clear. 

We  hasten  to  the  end  of  this  sad  and  dis- 
graceful story.  The  war  ceased.  The  finest 
population  in  India  was  subjected  to  a greedy, 
cowardly,  cruel  tyrant.  Commerce  and  agri- 
culture languished.  The  rich  province  which 
had  tempted  the  cupidity  of  Sujah  Dowlah 
became  the  most  miserable  part  of  his  misera- 
ble dominions.  Yet  is  the  injured  nation  not 
extinct.  At  long  intervals  gleams  of  its  an- 
cient spirit  have  flashed  forth ; and  even  at 
this  day,  valor,  and  self-respect,  and  a chival- 
rous feeling  rare  among  Asiatics,  and  a bitter 
remembrance  of  the  great  crime  of  England, 
distinguish  that  noble  Afghan  race.  To  this 
day  they  are  regarded  as  the  best  of  all  sepoys 
at  the  cold  steel ; and  it  was  very  recently  re- 
marked, by  one  who  had  enjoyed  great  oppor- 
tunities of  observation,  that  the  only  natives  of 


i86 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


India,  to  whom  the  word  “ gentleman  ” can 
with  perfect  propriety  be  applied,  are  to  be 
found  among  the  Rohillas. 

Whatever  we  may  think  of  the  morality  of 
Hastings,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  finan- 
cial results  of  his  policy  did  honor  to  his  tal- 
ents. In  less  than  two  years  after  he  assumed 
the  government,  he  had,  without  imposing  any 
additional  burdens  on  the  people  subject  to 
his  authority,  added  about  four  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  pounds  to  the  annual  income  of 
the  Company,  besides  procuring  about  a mil- 
lion in  ready  money.  He  had  also  relieved 
the  finances  of  Bengal  from  military  expendi- 
ture, amounting  to  near  a quarter  of  a million 
a year,  and  had  thrown  that  charge  on  the 
Nabob  of  Oude.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
this  was  a result  which,  if  it  had  been  obtained 
by  honest  means,  would  have  entitled  him  to  the 
warmest  gratitude  of  his  country,  and  which, 
by  whatever  means  obtained,  proved  that  he 
possessed  great  talents  for  administration. 

In  the  mean  time,  Parliament  had  been  en- 
gaged in  long  and  grave  discussions  on  Asiatic 
affairs.  The  ministry  of  Lord  North,  in  the 
session  of  1773,  introduced  a measure  which 
made  a considerable  change  in  the  constitution 
of  the  Indian  government.  This  law,  known 
by  the  name  of  the  Regulating  Act,  provided 
that  the  presidency  of  Bengal  should  exercise 
a control  over  the  other  possessions  of  the 
Company;  that  the  chief  of  that  presidency 
should  be  styled  Governor-General ; that  he 
should  be  assisted  by  four  Councillors  ; and 
that  a supreme  court  of  judicature,  consisting 
of  a chief  justice  and  three  inferior  judges, 
should  be  established  at  Calcutta.  This  court 
was  made  independent  of  the  Governor-Gen- 
eral and  Council,  and  was  intrusted  with  a civil 
and  criminal  jurisdiction  of  immense  and,  at 
the  same  time,  of  undefined  extent. 

The  Governor-General  and  Councillors  were 
named  in  the  act,  and  were  to  hold  their  situa- 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


187 

tions  for  five  years.  Hastings  was  to  be  the 
first  Governor-General.  One  of  the  four  new 
Councillors,  Mr.  Barwell,  an  experienced  ser- 
vant of  the  Company,  was  then  in  India.  The 
other  three,  General  Clavering,  Mr.  Monson, 
and  Mr.  Francis,  were  sent  out  from  England. 

The  ablest  of  the  new  Councillors  was,  be- 
yond all  doubt,  Philip  Francis.  His  acknowl- 
edged compositions  proved  that  he  possessed 
considerable  eloquence  and  information.  Sev- 
eral years  passed  in  the  public  offices  had 
formed  him  to  habits  of  business.  His  enemies 
have  never  denied  that  he  had  a fearless  and 
manly  spirit;  and  his  friends,  we  are  afraid, 
must  acknowledge  that  his  estimate  of  himself 
was  extravagantly  high,  that  his  temper  was 
irritable,  that  his  deportment  was  often  rude 
and  petulant,  and  that  his  hatred  was  of  in- 
tense bitterness  and  long  duration. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  mention  this  emi- 
nent man  without  adverting  for  a moment  to 
the  question  which  his  name  at  once  suggests 
to  every  mind.  Was  he  the  author  of  the  Let- 
ters of  Junius  ? Our  own  firm  belief  is  that  he 
was.  The  evidence  is,  we  think,  such  as  would 
support  a verdict  in  a civil,  nay,  in  a criminal 
proceeding.  The  handwriting  of  Junius  is  the 
very  peculiar  handwriting  of  Francis,  slightly 
disguised.  As  to  the  position,  pursuits,  and 
connections  of  Junius,  the  following  are  the 
most  important  facts  which  can  be  considered 
as  clearly  proved  ; first  that  he  was  acquainted 
with  the  technical  forms  of  the  secretary  of 
state’s  office  ; secondly,  that  he  was  intimately 
acquainted  with  the  business  of  the  war  office  ; 
thirdly,  that  he,  during  the  year  1770  attended 
debates  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  took  notes 
of  speeches,  particularly  of  the  speeches  of 
Lord  Chatham  ; fourthly,  that  he  bitterly  re- 
sented the  appointment  of  Mr.  Chamier  to  the 
place  of  deputy  secretary-at-war ; fifthly,  that 
he  was  bound  by  some  strong  tie  to  the  first 
Lord  Holland.  Now,  Francis  passed  some 


i88 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


years  in  the  secretary  of  state’s  office.  He 
was  subsequently  chief  clerk  of  the  war  office. 
He  repeatedly  mentioned  that  he  had  himself, 
in  1770,  heard  speeches  of  Lord  Chatham; 
and  some  of  these  speeches  were  actually 
printed  from  his  notes.  He  resigned  his  clerk- 
ship at  the  war-office  from  resentment  at  the 
appointment  of  Mr.  Chamier.  It  was  by  Lord 
Holland  that  he  was  first  introduced  into  the 
pnblic  service.  Now,  here  are  five  marks,  all 
of  which  ought  to  be  found  in  Junius.  They 
are  all  five  found  in  Francis.  We  do  not  be- 
lieve that  more  than  two  of  them  can  be  found 
in  any  other  person  whatever.  If  this  agree- 
ment does  not  settle  the  question,  there  is  an 
end  of  all  reasoning  on  circumstantial  evi- 
dence. 

The  internal  evidence  seems  to  us  to  point 
the  same  way.  The  style  of  Francis  bears  a 
strong  resemblance  to  that  of  Junius  ; nor 
are  we  disposed  to  admit,  what  is  generally 
taken  for  granted,  that  the  acknowledged  com- 
positions of  Francis  are  very  decidedly  in- 
ferior to  the  anonymous  letters.  The  argu- 
ment from  inferiority,  at  all  events,  is  one  which 
may  be  urged  with  at  least  equal  force  against 
every  claimant  that  has  ever  been  mentioned, 
with  the  single  exception  of  Burke  ; and  it 
would  be  a waste  of  time  to  prove  that  Burke 
was  not  Junius.  And  what  conclusion,  after 
all,  can  be  drawn  from  mere  inferiority  ? 
Every  writer  must  produce  his  best  work ; 
and  the  interval  between  his  best  work  and 
his  second  best  work  may  be  very  wide  indeed. 
Nobody  will  say  that  the  best  letters  of  Junius 
are  more  decidedly  superior  to  the  acknowl- 
edged works  of  Francis  than  three  or  four  of 
Corneille’s  tragedies  to  the  rest,  than  three  or 
four  of  Ben  Jonson’s  comedies  to  the  rest,  than 
the  Pilgrim’s  Progress  to  the  other  worksof 
Bunyan,  than  Don  Quixote  to  the  other  works 
of  Cervantes.  Nay,  it  is  certain  that  Junius, 
whoever  he  may  have  been,  was  a most  un- 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


189 

equal  writer.  To  go  no  further  than  the  let- 
ters which  bear  the  signature  of  Junius;  the 
letter  to  the  king,  and  the  letters  to  Horne 
Tooke,  have  little  in  common,  except  the 
asperity  ; and  asperity  was  an  ingredient  seldom 
wanting  either  in  the  writings  or  in  the  speeches 
of  Francis. 

Indeed  one  of  the  strongest  reasons  for 
believing  that  Francis  was  Junius  is  the  moral 
resemblance  between  the  two  men.  It  is  net 
difficult,  from  the  letters  which,  under  various 
signatures,  are  known  to  have  been  written  by 
Junius  and  from  his  dealings  with  Woodfall 
and  others,  to  form  a tolerably  correct  notion 
of  his  character.  He  was  clearly  a man  not 
destitute  of  real  patriotism  and  magnanimity,  a 
man  whose  vices  were  not  of  a sordid  kind. 
But  he  must  also  have  been  a man  in  the 
highest  degree  arrogant  and  insolent,  a man 
prone  to  malevolence,  and  prone  to  the  error 
of  mistaking  his  malevolence  for  public  virtue. 
“ Doest  thou  well  to  be  angry?”  was  the 
question  asked  in  old  time  of  the  Hebrew 
prophet.  And  he  answered,  “ I do  well.” 
This  was  evidently  the  temper  of  Junius;  and 
to  this  cause  we  attribute  the  savage  cruelty 
which  disgraces  several  of  his  letters.  No 
man  is  so  merciless  as  he  who,  under  a strong 
self-delusion,  confounds  his  antipathies  with 
his  duties.  It  may  be  added  that  Junius, 
though  allied  with  the  democratic  party  by 
common  enmities,  was  the  very  opposite  of  a 
democratic  politician.  While  attacking  indi- 
viduals with  a ferocity  which  perpetually 
violated  all  the  laws  of  literary  warfare,  he 
regarded  the  most  defective  parts  of  old  in- 
-stitutions  with  a respect  amounting  to  pedan- 
try, pleaded  the  cause  of  Old  Sarum  with  fer- 
vor, and  contemptuously  told  the  capitalists  of 
Manchester  and  Leeds  that,  if  they  wanted 
votes,  they  might  buy  land  and  become  free- 
holders of  Lancashire  and  Yorkshire,  All 


190 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


this,  we  believe,  might  stand,  with  scarcely  any 
change,  for  a character  of  Philip  Francis. 

It  is  not  strange  that  the  great  anonymous 
writer  should  have  been  willing  at  that  time  to 
leave  the  country  which  had  been  so  power- 
fully stirred  by  his  eloquence.  Everything 
had  gone  against  him.  That  party  which  he 
clearly  preferred  to  every  other,  the  party  of 
George  "Grenville,  had  been  scattered  by  the 
death  of  its  chief ; and  Lord  Suffolk  had  led 
the  greater  part  of  it  over  to  the  ministerial 
benches.  The  ferment  produced  by  the  Mid- 
dlesex election  had  gone  down.  Every  faction 
must  have  been  alike  an  object  of  aversion  to 
Junius.  His  opinions  on  domestic  affairs 
separated  him  from  the  ministry  ; his  opinions 
on  colonial  affairs  from  the  opposition.  Under 
such  circumstances,  he  had  thrown  down  his 
pen  in  misanthropical  despair.  His  farewell 
letter  to  Woodfall  bears  date  the  nineteenth  of 
January,  1773.  In  that  letter,  he  declared  that 
he  must  be  an  idiot  to  write  again  ; that  he  had 
meant  well  by  the  cause  and  the  public  ; that 
both  were  given  up  ; that  there  were  not  ten 
men  who  would  act  steadily  together  on  any 
question.  “ But  it  is  all  alike,”  he  added,”  vile 
and  contemptible.  You  have  never  flinched 
that  I know  of ; and  I shall  always  rejoice  to 
hear  of  your  prosperity.”  These  were  the 
last  words  of  Junius.  In  a year  from  that 
time,  Philip  Francis  was  on  his  voyage  to 
Bengal. 

With  the  three  new  Councillors  came  out 
the  judges  of  the  Supreme  Court.  The  chief 
justice  was  Sir  Elijah  Impey.  He  was  an  old 
acquaintance  of  Hastings;  and  it  is  probable 
that  the  Governor-General,  if  he  had  searched 
through  all  the  inns  of  court,  could  not  have 
found  an  equally  serviceable  tool.  But  the 
members  of  Council  were  by  no  means  in  an 
obsequious  mood.  Hastings  greatly  disliked 
the  new  form  of  government,  and  had  no  very 
high  opinion  of  his  coadjutors,  They  had 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


191 


heard  this,  and  were  disposed  to  be  suspicious 
and  punctilious.  When  men  are  in  such  a 
frame  of  mind,  any  trifle  is  sufficient  to  give 
occasion  for  dispute.  The  members  of  Coun- 
cil expected  a salute  of  twenty-one  guns  from 
the  batteries  of  Fort  William.  Hastings 
allowed  them  only  seventeen.  They  landed 
in  ill  humor.  The  first  civilities  were  ex- 
changed with  cold  reserve.  On  the  morrow 
commenced  that  long  quarrel  which,  after  dis- 
tracting British  India,  was  renewed  in  England, 
and  in  which  all  the  most  eminent  statesmen 
and  orators  of  the  age  took  active  part  on  one 
or  the  other  side. 

Hastings  was  supported  by  Barwell.  They 
had  not  always  been  friends.  But  the  arrival 
of  the  new  members  of  Council  from  England 
naturally  had  the  effect  of  uniting  the  old  ser- 
vants of  the  Company.  Clavering,  Monson, 
and  Francis  formed  the  majority.  They  in- 
stantly wrested  the  government  out  of  the 
hands  of  Hastings,  condemned,  certainly  not 
without  justice,  his  late  dealings  with  the  Nabob 
Vizier,  recalled  the  English  agent  from  Oude, 
and  sent  thither  a creature  of  their  own,  order- 
ed the  brigade  which  had  conquered  the  un- 
happy Rohillas,  to  return  to  the  Company’s 
territories,  and  instituted  a severe  inquiry  into 
the  conduct  of  the  war.  Next,  in  spite  of  the 
Governor-General’s  remonstrances,  they  pro- 
ceeded to  exercise,  in  the  most  indiscreet 
manner,  their  new  authority  over  the  subordi- 
nate presidencies  ; threw  all  the  affairs  of 
Bombay  into  confusion  ; and  interfered,  with 
an  incredible  union  of  rashness  and  feebleness, 
in  the  intestine  disputes  of  the  Mahratta  gov- 
ernment. At  the  same  time,  they  fell  on  the 
internal  administration  of  Bengal,  and  attacked 
the  whole  fiscal  and  judicial  system,  a system 
which  was  undoubtedly  defective,  but  which  it 
was  very  improbable  that  gentlemen  fresh  from 
England  would  be  competent  to  amend.  The 
effect  of  their  reforms  was  that  all  protection 


BIOGliA  PHICA  L ESS  A VS. 


192 

to  life  and  property  was  withdrawn,  and  that 
gangs  of  robbers  plundered  and  slaughtered 
with  impunity  in  the  very  suburbs  of  Calcutta. 
Hastings  continued  to  live  in  the  Government- 
house,  and  to  draw  the  salary  of  Governor- 
General.  He  continued  even  to  take  the  lead 
at  the  council-board  in  the  transaction  of 
ordinary  business;  for  his  opponents  could 
not  but  feel  that  he  knew  much  of  which  they 
were  ignorant,  and  that  he  decided  both  surely 
and  speedily,  many  questions  which  to  them 
would  have  been  hopelessly  puzzling.  But  the 
higher  powers  of  government  and  the  most 
valuable  patronage  had  been  taken  from  him. 

The  natives  soon  found  this  out.  They  con- 
sidered him  as  a fallen  man  ; and  they  acted 
after  their  kind.  Some  of  our  readers  may 
have  seen,  in  India,  a crowd  of  crows  pecking 
a sick  vulture  to  death,  no  bad  type  of  what 
happens  in  that  country,  as  often  as  fortune 
deserts  one  who  has  been  great  and  dreaded. 
In  an  instant  all  the  sycophants  who  had  lately 
been  ready  to  lie  for  him,  to  forge  for  him,  to 
pander  for  him,  to  poison  for  him,  hasten  to 
purchase  the  favor  of  his  victorious  enemies  by 
accusing  him.  An  Indian  government  has 
only  to  let  it  be  understood  that  it  wishes  a 
particular  man  to  be  ruined  ; and  in  twenty- 
four  hours  it  will  be  furnished  with  grave 
charges,  supported  by  depositions  so  full  and 
circumstantial  that  any  person  unaccustomed 
to  Asiatic  mendacity  would  regard  them  as  de- 
cisive. It  is  well  if  the  signature  of  the  des- 
tined victim  is  not  counterfeited  at  the  foot  of 
some  illegal  compact,  and  if  some  treasonable 
paper  is  not  slipped  into  a hiding-place  in  his 
house.  Hastings  was  now  regarded  as  help- 
less. The  power  to  make  or  mar  the  fortune 
of  every  man  in  Bengal  had  passed,  as  it 
seemed,  into  the  hands  of  the  new  Councillors. 
Immediately  charges  against  the  Governor- 
General  began  to  pour  in.  They  were  eagerly 
welcomed  by  the  majority,  who,  to  do  them 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


*93 


justice,  were  men  of  too  much  honor  knowing- 
ly to  countenance  false  accusations,  but  who 
were  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  East 
to  be  aware  that,  in  that  part  of  the  world,  a 
very  little  encouragement  from  power  will  call 
forth,  in  a week,  more  Oateses,  and  Eedloes. 
and  Dangerfields,  than  Westminster  Hall  sees 
in  a century. 

It  would  have  been  strange  indeed  if,  at 
such  a juncture,  Nuncomar  had  remained  quiet. 
That  bad  man  was  stimulated  at  once  by  mal- 
ignity, by  avarice,  and  by  ambition.  Now  was 
the  time  to  be  avenged  on  his  old  enemy,  to 
wreak  a grudge  of  seventeen  years,  to  establish 
himself  in  the  favor  of  the  majority  of 
the  Council,  to  become  the  greatest  native 
in  Bengal.  From  the  time  of  the  arrival 
of  the  new  Councillors,  he  had  paid  the  most 
marked  court  to  them,  and  had  in  consequence 
been  excluded,  with  all  indignity,  from  the 
Government-house.  He  now  put  into  the  hands 
of  Francis,  with  great  ceremony,  a paper,  con- 
taining several  charges  of  the  most  serious 
description.  By  this  document  Hastings  was 
accused  of  putting  offices  up  to  sale,  and  of 
receiving  bribes  for  suffering  offenders  to 
escape.  In  particular,  it  was  alleged  that 
Mahommed  Reza  Khan  had  been  dismissed 
with  impunity,  in  consideration  of  a great  sum 
paid  to  the  Governor-General. 

Francis  read  the  paper  in  Council.  A vio- 
lent altercation  followed.  Hastings  complained 
in  bitter  terms  of  the  way  in  which  he  was 
treated,  spoke  with  contempt  of  Nuncomar  and 
of  Nuncomar’s  accusation,  and  denied  the  right 
of  the  Council  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the  Gov- 
ernor. At  the  next  meeting  of  the  Board, 
another  communication  from  Nuncomar  was 
produced.  He  requested  that  he  might  be 
permitted  to  attend  the  Council,  and  that 
he  might  be  heard  in  support  of  his  assertions. 
Another  tempestuous  debate  took  place.  The 
Governor-General  maintained  that  the  council- 


i94 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  YS\ 


room  was  not  a proper  place  for  such  an  inves- 
tigation ; that  from  persons  who  were  heated 
by  daily  conflict  with  him  he  could  not  expect 
the  fairness  of  judges  ; and  that  he  could  not, 
without  betraying  the  dignity  of  his  post,  sub- 
mit to  be  confronted  with  a such  man  as  Nun- 
cornar.  The  majority,  however,  resolved  to  go 
into  the  charges.  Hastings  rose,  declared  the 
sitting  at  an  end,  and  left  the  room  followed 
by  Barwell.  The  other  members  kept  their 
seats,  voted  themselves  a council,  put  Clavering 
in  the  chair,  and  ordered  Nuncomar  to  be 
called  in.  Nuncomar  not  only  adhered  to  the 
original  charges,  but,  after  the  fashion  of  the 
East,  produced  a large  supplement.  He  stated 
that  Hastings  had  received  a great  sum  for 
appointing  Rajah  Goordas  treasurer  of  the 
Nabob’s  household,  and  for  committing  the 
care  of  his  Highness’s  person  to  the  Munny 
Begum.  He  put  in  a letter  purporting  to  bear 
the  seal  of  the  Munny  Begum,  for  the  purpose 
of  establishing  the  truth  of  his  story.  The 
seal,  whether  forged,  as  Hastings  affirmed,  or 
genuine,  as  we  are  rather  inclined  to  believe, 
proved  nothing.  Nuncomar,  as  everybody 
knows,  who  knows  India,  had  only  to  tell  the 
Munny  Begum  that  such  a letter  would  give 
pleasure  to  the  majority  of  the  Council,  in 
order  to  procure  her  attestation.  The  major- 
ity, however,  voted  that  the  charge  was  made 
out ; that  Hastings  had  corruptly  received 
between  thirty  and  forty  thousand  pounds  ; and 
that  he  ought  to  be  compelled  to  refund. 

The  general  feeling  among  the  English  in 
Bengal  was  strongly  in  favor  of  the  Governor- 
General.  In  talents  for  business,  in  knowledge 
of  the  country,  in  general  courtesy  of  demeanor, 
he  was  decidedly  superior  to  his  persecutors. 
The  servants  of  the  Company  were  naturally 
disposed  to  side  with  the  most  distinguished 
member  of  their  own  body  against  a clerk  from 
the  war-office,  who,  profoundly  ignorant  of  the 
native  languages  and  of  the  native  character, 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


195 


took  on  himself  to  regulate  every  department 
of  the  administration.  Hastings  however,  in 
spite  of  the  general  sympathy  of  his  country- 
men, was  in  a most  painful  situation.  There 
was  still  an  appeal  to  higher  authority  in  Eng- 
land. If  that  authority  took  part  with  his  en- 
emies, nothing  was  left  to  him  but  to  throw  up 
his  office.  He  accordingly  placed  his  resigna- 
tion in  the  hands  of  his  agent  at  London, 
Colonel  Mackleane.  But  Macleane  was  in- 
structed not  to  produce  the  resignation,  unless 
it  should  be  fully  ascertained  that  the  feeling 
at  the  India  House  was  adverse  to  the  Gov- 
ernor-General. 

The  triumph  of  Nuncomar  seemed  to  be 
complete.  He  held  a daily  levee,  t~  which  his 
countrymen  resorted  in  crowds,  and  to  which, 
on  one  occasion,  the  majority  of  the  Council 
condescended  tu  repair.  His  house  was  an 
office  for  the  purpose  of  receiving  charges 
against  the  Govern.  .‘-General.  It  was  said 
that,  partly  by  threats,  and  partly  by  wheedling, 
th;  villainous  Brahmin  had  induced  many  of 
the  w • lthiest  men  of  the  province  to  send  in 
complaints.  But  he  was  playing  a perilous 
game.  It  was  not  safe  to  drive  to  despair  a 
man  of  such  resources  and  of  such  determi- 
ation  as  Hastings.  Nuncomar,  with  all  his 
acuteness,  did  not  understand  the  nature  of 
the  institutions  under  which  he  lived.  He  saw 
that  he  had  with  him  the  majority  of  the  body 
which  made  treaties,  gave  places,  raised  taxes. 
The  separation  between  political  and  judicial 
functions  was  a thing  of  which  he  had  no  con- 
ception. It  had  probably  never  occurred  to 
him  that  there  was  in  Bengal  an  authority  per- 
feetty  independent  of  the  Council,  an  authority 
which  could  protect  one  whom  the  Council 
wished  to  destroy,  and  send  to  the  gibbet  one 
whom  the  Council  wished  to  protect.  Yet  such 
was  the  fact.  The  Supreme  Court  was,  within 
the  sphere  of  its  own  duties,  altogether  in- 
dependent of  the  Government.  Hastings,  with 


196 


biographical  essa  ys. 


his  usual  sagacity,  had  seen  how  much  advan- 
tage he  might  derive  from  possessing  himself 
of  this  stronghold  ; and  he  had  acted  accor- 
dingly. The  Judges,  especially  the  Chief  Jus- 
tice, were  hostile  to  the  majority  of  the  Council. 
The  time  had  now  come  for  putting  this  for- 
midable machinery  into  action. 

On  a sudden,  Calcutta  was  astounded  by 
the  news  that  Nuncomar  had  been  taken  up 
on  a charge  of  felony,  committed,  and  thrown 
into  the  common  jail.  The  crime  imputed  to 
him  was  that  six  years  before  he  had  forged  a 
bond.  The  ostensible  prosecutor  was  a na- 
tive. But  it  was  then,  and  still  is,  the  opinion 
of  everybody,  idiots  and  biographers  excepted, 
that  Hastings  was  the  real  mover  in  the  busi- 
ness. 

The  rage  of  the  majority  rose  to  the  highest 
point.  They  protested  against  the  proceedings 
of  the  Supreme  Court,  and  sent  several  urgent 
messages  to  the  Judges,  demanding  that 
Nuncomar  should  be  admitted  to  bail.  The 
Judges  returned  haughty  and  resolute  answers. 
All  that  the  Council  could  do  was  to  heap 
honors  and  emoluments  on  the  family  of  Nun- 
comar ; and  this  they  did.  In  the  mean  time 
the  assizes  commenced  ; a true  bill  was  found  ; 
and  Nuncomar  was  brought  before  Sir  Elijah 
Impey  and  a jury  composed  of  Englishmen. 
A great  quantity  of  contradictory  swearing, 
and  the  necessity  of  having  every  word  of  the 
evidence  interpreted,  protracted  the  trial  to  a 
most  unusual  length.  At  last  a verdict  of  guilty 
was  returned,  and  the  Chief  Justice  pronounced 
sentence  of  death  on  the  prisoner. 

That  Impey  ought  to  have  respited  Nun- 
comar we  hold  to  be  perfectly  clear.  Whether 
the  whole  proceeding  was  not  illegal,  is  a ques- 
tion. But  it  is  certain,  that  whatever  may 
have  been,  according  to  technical  rules  of  con- 
struction, the  effect  of  the  statute  under  which 
the  trial  took  place,  it  was  most  unjust  to  hang 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


197 


a Hindoo  for  forgery.  The  law  which  made 
forgery  capital  in  England  was  passed  without 
the  smallest  reference  to  the  state  of  society 
in  India.  It  was  unknown  to  the  natives  of 
India.  It  had  never  been  put  in  execution 
among  them,  certainly  not  for  want  of  delin- 
quents. It  was  in  the  highest  degree  shock- 
ing to  all  their  notions.  They  were  not  accus- 
tomed to  the  distinction  which  many  circum- 
stances, peculiar  to  our  own  state  of  society, 
have  led  us  to  make  between  forgery  and  other 
kinds  of  cheating.  The  counterfeiting  of  a 
seal  was,  in  their  estimation,  a common  act  of 
swindling;  nor  had  it  ever  crossed  their  minds 
that  it  was  to  be  punished  as  severely  as  gang- 
robbery  or  assassination.  A just  judge  would, 
beyond  all  doubt,  have  reserved  the  case  for 
the  consideration  of  the  sovereign.  But  Im- 
pey  would  not  hear  of  mercy  or  delay. 

The  excitement  among  all  classes  was  great. 
Francis  and  Francis’s  few  English  adherents 
described  the  Governor-General  and  the  Chief 
Justice  as  the  worst  of  murderers.  Clavering, 
it  was  said,  swore  that,  even  at  the  foot  of  the 
gallows,  Nuncomar  should  be  rescued.  The 
bulk  of  the  European  society,  though  strongly 
attached  to  the  Governor-General,  could  not 
but  feel  compassion  for  a man  who,  with  all 
his  crimes,  had  so  long  filled  so  large  a space 
in  their  sight,  who  had  been  great  and  power- 
ful before  the  British  empire  in  India  began  to 
exist,  and  to  whom,  in  the  old  times,  governors 
and  members  of  council,  then  mere  commer- 
cial factors,  had  paid  court  for  protection. 
The  feeling  of  the  Hindoos  was  infinitely 
stronger.  They  were,  indeed,  not  a people  to 
strike  one  blow  for  their  countryman.  But  his 
sentence  filled  them  with  sorrow  and  dismay. 
Tried  even  by  their  low  standard  of  morality, 
he  was  a bad  man.  But  bad  as  he  was,  he 
was  the  head  of  their  race  and  religion,  a 
Brahmin  of  the  Brahmins.  He  had  inherited 
the  purest  and  highest  caste.  He  had  prac- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  VS. 


198 

tised  with  the  greatest  punctuality  all  those 
ceremonies  to  which  the  superstitious  Benga- 
lees ascribe  far  more  importance  than  to  the 
correct  discharge  of  the  social  duties.  They 
felt,  therefore,  as  a devout  Catholic  in  the 
dark  ages  would  have  felt,  at  seeing  a prelate 
of  the  highest  dignity  sent  to  the  gallows  by  a 
secular  tribunal.  According  to  their  old  na- 
tional laws,  a Brahmin  could  not  be  put  to 
death  for  any  crime  whatever.  And  the  crime 
for  which  Nuncomar  was  about  to  die  was  re- 
garded by  them  in  much  the  same  light  in 
which  the  selling  of  an  unsound  horse,  for 
a sound  price,  is  regarded  by  a Yorkshire 
jockey. 

The  Mussulmans  alone  appear  to  have  seen 
with  exultation  the  fate  of  the  powerful  Hindoo, 
who  had  attempted  to  rise  by  means  of  the 
ruin  of  Mahommed  Reza  Khan.  The  Mahom- 
medan  historian  of  those  times  takes  delight 
in  aggravating  the  charge.  He  assures  us 
that  in  Nuncomar’s  house  a casket  was  found 
containing  counterfeits  of  the  seals  of  all  the 
richest  men  of  the  province.  We  have  never 
fallen  in  with  any  other  authority  for  this  story 
which  in  itself  is  by  no  means  improbable. 

The  day  drew  near  ; and  Nuncomar  prepared 
himself  to  die  with  that  quiet  fortitude  with 
which  the  Bengalee,  so  effeminately  timid  in 
personal  conflict,  often  encounters  calamities 
for  which  there  is  no  remedy.  The  sheriff, 
with  the  humanity  which  is  seldom  wanting  in 
an  English  gentleman,  visited  the  prisoner  on 
the  eve  of  the  execution,  and  assured  him  that 
no  indulgence,  consistent  with  law,  should  be 
refused  to  him.  Nuncomar  expressed  his 
gratitude  with  great  politeness  and  unaltered 
composure.  Not  a muscle  of  his  face  moved. 
Not  a sigh  broke  from  him.  He  put  his  finger 
to  his  forehead,  and  calmly  said  that  fate 
would  have  its  way,  and  that  there  was  no  re- 
sisting the  pleasure  of  God.  He  sent  his  com- 
pliments to  Francis,  Clavering,  and  Monson, 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


199 


and  charged  them  to  protect  Rajah  Goordas, 
who  was  about  to  become  the  head  of  the 
Brahmins  of  Bengal.  The  sheriff  withdrew, 
greatly  agitated  by  what  had  passed,  and 
Nuncomar  sat  composedly  down  to  write  notes 
and  examine  accounts. 

The  next  morning,  before  the  sun  was  in  his 
power,  an  immense  concourse  assembled  round 
the  place  where  the  gallows  had  been  set  up. 
Grief  and  horror  were  on  every  face  ; yet  to 
the  last  the  multitude  could  hardly  believe  that 
the  English  really  purposed  to  take  the  life  of 
the  great  Brahmin.  At  length  the  mournful 
procession  came  through  the  crowd.  Nun- 
comar sat  up  in  his  palanquin,  and  looked 
round  him  with  unaltered  serenity.  He  had 
just  parted  from  those  who  were  most  nearly 
connected  with  him.  Their  cries  and  contor- 
tions had  appalled  the  European  ministers  of 
justice,  but  had  not  produced  the  smallest  ef- 
fect on  the  iron  stoicism  of  the  prisoner.  The 
only  anxiety  which  he  expressed  was  that  men 
of  his  own  priestly  caste  might  be  in  attendance 
to  take  charge  of  his  corpse.  He  again  de- 
sired to  be  remembered  to  his  friends  in  the 
Council,  mounted  the  scaffold  with  firmness, 
and  gave  the  signal  to  the  executioner.  The 
moment  that  the  drop  fell,  a howl  of  sorrow 
and  despair  rose  from  the  innumerable  specta- 
tors. Hundreds  turned  away  their  faces  from 
the  polluting  sight,  fled  with  loud  wailings  to- 
wards the  Hooglev,  and  plunged  into  its  holy 
waters,  as  if  to  purify  themselves  from  the 
guilt  of  having  looked  on  such  a crime.  These 
feelings  were  not  confined  to  Calcutta.  The 
whole  province  was  greatly  excited  ; and  the 
population  of  Dacca,  in  particular,  gave  strong 
signs  of  grief  and  dismay. 

Of  Impev’s  conduct  it  is  impossible  to  speak 
too  severely.  We  have  already  said  that,  in 
our  opinion,  he  acted  unjustly  in  refusing  to 
respite  Nuncomar.  No  rational  man  can 
doubt  that  he  took  this  course  in  order  to 


200 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


gratify  the  Governor-General.  If  we  had  ever 
had  any  doubts  on  that  point,  they  would  have 
been  dispelled  by  a letter  which  Mr.  Gleig  has 
published.  Hastings,  three  or  four  years  later, 
described  Impey  as  the  man  to  whose  sup- 
port he  was  at  one  time  indebted  for  the  safety 
of  his  fortune,  honor,  and  reputation.”  These 
strong  words  can  refer  only  to  the  case  of 
Nuncomar;  and  they  must  mean  that  Impey 
hanged  Nuncomar  in  order  to  support  Hast- 
ings. It  is,  therefore,  our  deliberate  opinion 
that  Impey,  sitting  as  a judge,  put  a man  un- 
justly to  death  in  order  to  serve  a political 
purpose. 

But  we  look  on  the  conduct  of  Hastings  in 
a somewhat  different  light.  He  was  struggling 
for  fortune,  honor,  liberty,  all  that  makes  life 
valuable.  He  was  beset  by  rancorous  and  un- 
principled enemies.  From  his  colleagues  he 
could  expect  no  justice.  He  cannot  be  blamed 
for  wishing  to  crush  his  accusers.  He  was 
indeed  bound  to  use  only  legitimate  means  for 
that  end.  But  it  was  not  strange  that  he 
should  have  thought  any  means  legitimate 
which  were  pronounced  legitimate  by  the  sages 
of  the  law,  by  men  whose  peculiar  duty  it  was 
to  deal  justly  between  adversaries,  and  whose 
education  might  be  supposed  to  have  peculiarly 
qualified  them  for  the  discharge  of  that  duty. 
Nobody  demands  from  a party  the  unbending 
equity  of  a judge.  The  reason  that  judges 
are  appointed  is,  that  even  a good  man  can- 
not be  trusted  to  decide  a cause  in  which  he 
is  himself  concerned.  Not  a day  passes  on 
which  an  honest  prosecutor  does  not  ask  for 
what  none  but  a dishonest  tribunal  would 
grant.  It  is  too  much  to  expect  that  any  man, 
when  his  dearest  interests  are  at  stake,  and  his 
strongest  passions  excited,  will,  as  against 
himself,  be  more  just  than  the  sworn  dis- 
pensers of  justice.  To  take  an  analogous  case 
from  the  history  of  our  own  island  ; suppose 
that  Lord  Stafford,  when  in  the  lower  on 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


201 


suspicion  of  being  concerned  in  the  Popish 
plot,  had  been  apprised  that  Titus  Oates  had 
done  something  which  might,  by  a questionable 
construction,  be  brought  under  the  head  of 
felony.  Should  we  severely  blame  Lord  Staf- 
ford, in  the  supposed  case,  for  causing  a prose- 
cution to  be  instituted,  for  furnishing  funds, 
for  using  all  his  influence  to  intercept  the 
mercy  of  the  Crown  ? We  think  not.  If  a 
judge,  indeed,  from  favor  to  the  Catholic  lords, 
were  to  strain  the  law  in  order  to  hang  Oates, 
such  a judge  would  richly  deserve  impeach- 
ment. But  it  does  not  appear  to  us  that  the 
Catholic  lord,  by  bringing  the  case  before  the 
judge  for  decision,  would  materially  overstep 
the  limits  of  a just  self-defence. 

While,  therefore,  we  have  not  the  least  doubt 
that  this  memorable  execution  is  to  be  at- 
tributed to  Hastings,  we  doubt  whether  it  can 
with  justice  be  reckoned  among  his  crimes. 
That  his  conduct  was  dictated  by  a profound 
policy  is  evident.  He  was  in  a minority  in 
Council.  It  was  possible  that  he  might  long 
be  in  a minority.  He  knew  the  native  character 
well.  He  knew  in  what  abundance  accusations 
are  certain  to  flow  in  against  the  most  innocent 
inhabitant  of  India  who  is  under  the  from  of 
power.  There  was  not  in  the  whole  black 
population  of  Bengal,  a place-holder,  a place- 
hunter,  a government  tenant,  who  did  not 
think  that  he  might  better  himself  by  sending 
up  a deposition  against  the  Governor-General. 
Under  these  circumstances,  the  persecuted 
statesman  resolved  to  teach  the  whole  crew  of 
accusers  and  witnesses,  that,  though  in  a min- 
ority at  the  council-board,  he  was  still  to  be 
feared.  The  lesson  which  he  gave  them  was 
indeed  a lesson  not  to  be  forgotten.  The  head 
of  the  combination  which  had  been  formed 
against  him,  the  richest,  the  most  powerful,  the 
most  artful  of  the  Hindoos,  distinguished  by 
the  favor  of  those  who  then  held  the  govern- 
ment, fenced  round  by  the  superstitious  rever- 


202 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


ence  of  millions,  was  hanged  in  broad  day 
before  many  thousands  of  people.  Everything 
that  could  make  the  warning  impressive,  dignity 
in  the  sufferer,  solemnity  in  the  proceeding, 
was  found  in  this  case.  The  helpless  rage  and 
vain  struggles  of  the  Council  made  the  triumph 
more  signal.  From  that  moment  the  convic- 
tion of  every  native  was  that  it  was  safer  to 
take  the  part  of  Hastings  in  a minority  than 
that  of  Francis  in  a majority,  and  that  he 
who  was  so  venturous  as  to  join  in  running 
down  the  Governor-General  might  chance,  in 
the  phrase  of  the  Eastern  poet,  to  find  a tiger, 
while  beating  the  jungle  for  a deer.  The 
voices  of  a thousand  informers  were  silenced 
in  an  instant.  From  that  time,  whatever  diffi- 
culties Hastings  might  have  to  encounter,  he 
was  never  molested  by  accusations  from  natives 
in  India. 

It  is  a remarkable  circumstance  that  one  of 
the  letters  of  Hastings  to  Dr.  Johnson  bears 
date  a very  few  hours  after  the  death  of  Nun- 
comar.  While  the  whole  settlement  was  in 
commotion,  while  a mighty  and  ancient  priest- 
hood were  weeping  over  the  remains  of  their 
chief,  the  conqueror  in  that  deadly  grapple  sat 
down,  with  characteristic  self-possession,  to 
write  about  the  Tour  to  the  Hebrides,  Jones’s 
Persian  Grammar,  and  the  history,  traditions, 
arts,  and  natural  productions  of  India. 

In  the  mean  time,  intelligence  of  the  Rohilla 
war,  and  of  the  first  disputes  between  Hastings 
and  his  colleagues,  had  reached  London.  The 
Directors  took  partw'ith  the  majority,  and  sent 
out  a letter  filled  with  severe  reflections  on 
the  conduct  of  Hastings.  They  condemned, 
in  strong  but  just  terms,  the  iniquity  of  under- 
taking offensive  wars  merely  for  the  sake  of 
pecuniary  advantage.  But  they  utterly  forgot 
that,  if  Hastings  had  by  illicit  means  obtained 
pecuniary  advantages’,  he  had  done  so,  not  for 
his  own  benefit,  but  in  order  to  meet  their  de- 
mands. To  enjoin  honesty,  and  to  insist  on 


WARREN  NAS  TINGS. 


20  3 


having  what  could  not  be  honestly  got,  was 
then  the  constant  practice  of  the  Company. 
As  Lady  Macbeth  says  of  her  husband,  they 
“ would  not  play  false,  and  yet  would  wrongly 
win.” 

The  Regulating  Act,  by  which  Hastings  had 
been  appointed  Governor-General  for  five 
years,  empowered  the  Crown  to  remove  him  on 
an  address  from  the  Company.  Lord  North 
was  desirous  to  procure  such  an  address.  The 
three  members  of  Council  who  had  been  sent 
out  from  England  were  men  of  his  own  choice. 
General  Clavering,  in  particular,  was  supported 
by  a large  parliamentary  connection,  such  as 
no  cabinet  could  be  inclined  to  disoblige.  The 
wish  of  the  minister  was  to  displace  Hastings, 
and  to  put  Clavering  at  the  head  of  the  govern- 
ment. In  the  Court  of  Directors  parties  were 
very  nearly  balanced.  Eleven  voted  against 
Hastings  ; ten  for  him.  The  Court  of  Pro- 
prietors was  then  convened.  The  great  sale- 
room presented  a singular  appearance.  Letters 
had  been  sent  by  the  Secretary  of  the  Trea- 
sury, exhorting  all  the  supporters  of  govern- 
ment who  held  India  stock  to  be  in  attendance. 
Lord  Sandwich  marshalled  the  friends  of  the 
administration  with  his  usual  dexterity  and 
alertness.  Fifty  peers  and  privy  councillors, 
seldom  seen  so  far  eastward,  were  counted  in 
the  crowd.  The  debate  lasted  till  midnight. 
The  opponents  of  Hastings  had  a small 
superiority  on  the  division  ; but  a ballot  was 
demanded  ; and  the  result  was  that  the  Gover- 
nor-General triumphed  by  a majority  of  above 
a hundred  votes  over  the  combined  efforts  of 
the  Directors  and  the  Cabinet.  The  ministers 
were  greatly  exasperated  by  this  defeat.  Even 
Lord  North  lost  his  temper,  no  ordinary  occur- 
rence with  him,  and  threatened  to  convoke 
parliament  before  Christmas,  and  to  bring  in  a 
bill  for  depriving  the  Company  of  all  political 
power,  and  for  restricting  it  to  its  old  business 
of  trading  in  silks  and  teas. 


204 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


Colonel  Macleane,  who  through  all  his  con- 
flict had  zealously  supported  the  cause  of 
Hastings,  now  thought  that  his  employer  was 
in  imminent  danger  of  being  turned  out, 
branded  with  parliamentary  censure,  perhaps 
prosecuted.  The  opinion  of  the  crown  lawyers 
had  already  been  taken  respecting  some  parts 
of  the  Governor-General’s  conduct.  It  seemed 
to  be  high  time  to  think  of  securing  an  honor- 
able retreat.  Under  these  circumstances, 
Macleane  thought  himself  justified  in  produc- 
ing the  resignation  with  which  he  had  been  in- 
trusted. The  instrument  was  not  in  very  ac- 
curate form  ; but  the  Directors  were  too  eager 
to  be  scrupulous.  They  accepted  the  resigna- 
tion, fixed  on  Mr.  Wheler,  one  of  their  own 
body,  to  succeed  Hastings,  and  sent  out  orders 
that  General  Clavering,  as  senior  member  of 
Council,  should  exercise  the  functions  of  Gov- 
ernor-General till  Mr.  Wheler  should  arrive. 

But  while  these  things  were  passing  in  Eng- 
land, a great  change  had  taken  place  in  Ben- 
gal. Monson  was  no  more.  Only  four  mem- 
bers of  the  government  were  left.  Clavering 
and  Francis  were  on  one  side,  Barwell  and 
the  Governor-General  on  the  other ; and  the 
Governor-General  had  the  casting  vote.  Hast- 
ings, who  had  been  during  two  years  destitute 
of  all  power  and  patronage,  became  at  once 
absolute.  He  instantly  proceeded  to  retaliate 
on  his  adversaries.  Their  measures  were  re- 
versed : their  creatures  were  displaced.  A 
new  valuation  of  the  lands  of  Bengal,  for  the 
purposes  of  taxation,  was  ordered:  and  it  was 
provided  that  the  whole  inquiry  should  be  con- 
ducted by  the  Governor-General,  and  that  all 
the  letters  relating  to  it  should  run  in  his  name. 
He  began,  at  the  same  time,  to  revolve  vast 
plans  of  conquest  and  dominion,  plans  which 
he  lived  to  see  realized,  though  not  by  himself. 
His  project  was  to  form  subsidiary  alliances 
with  the  native  princes,  particularly  with  those 
of  Oude  and  Berar,  and  thus  to  make  Britain 


WAR  RE  K f/AST/VGS. 


205 


the  paramount  power  in  India.  While  he  was 
meditating  these  great  designs,  arrived  the  in- 
telligence that  he  had  ceased  to  be  Governor- 
General,  that  his  resignation  had  been  accept- 
ed, that  Wheeler  was  coming  out  immediately, 
and  that,  till  Wheelet  arrived,  the  chair  was  to 
be  filled  by  Clavering. 

Had  Hastings  still  been  in  a minority,  he 
would  probably  have  retired  without  a struggle  ; 
but  he  was  now  the  real  master  of  British 
India,  and  he  was  not  disposed  to  quit  his  high 
place.  He  asserted  that  he  had  never  given 
any  instructions  which  could  warrant  the  steps 
taken  at  home.  What  his  instructions  had 
been,  he  owned  he  had  forgotten.  If  he  had 
kept  a copy  of  them  he  had  mislaid  it.  But  he 
was  certain  that  he  had  repeatedly  declared 
to  the  Directors  that  he  would  not  resign.  He 
could  not  see  how  the  court,  possessed  of  that 
declaration  from  himself,  could  receive  his  res- 
ignation from  the  doubtful  hands  of  an  agent. 
If  the  resignation  were  invalid,  all  the  proceed- 
ings which  were  founded  on  that  resignation 
were  null,  and  Hastings  was  still  Governor- 
General. 

He  afterwards  affirmed  that,  though  his 
agents  had  not  acted  in  conformity  with  his 
instructions,  he  would  nevertheless  have  held 
himself  bound  by  their  acts,  if  Clavering  had 
not  attempted  to  seize  the  supreme  power  by 
violence.  Whether  this  assertion  were  or  were 
not  true,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  impru- 
dence of  Clavering  gave  Hastings  an  advantage. 
The  General  sent  for  the  keys  of  the  fort  and 
of  the  treasury,  took  possession  of  the  records, 
and  held  a council  at  which  Francis  attended. 
Hastings  took  the  chair  in  another  apartment, 
and  Barwell  sat  with  him.  Each  of  the  two 
parties  had  a plausible  show  of  right.  There 
was  no  authority  entitled  to  their  obedience 
within  fifteen  thousand  miles.  It  seemed  that 
there  remained  no  way  of  settling  the  dispute 
except  an  appeal  to  arms,  and  from  such  an 


2o6  biographical  essays. 

appeal  Hastings,  confident  of  his  influence 
over  his  countrymen  in  India,  was  not  inclined 
to  shrink.  He  directed  the  officers  of  the 
garrison  at  Fort  William  and  of  all  the  neigh- 
boring stations  to  obey  no  orders  but  his.  At 
the  same  time,  with  admirable  judgment,  he 
offered  to  submit  the  case  to  the  Supreme 
Court,  and  to  abide  by  its  decision.  By  mak- 
ing this  proposition  he  risked  nothing ; yet  it 
was  a proposition  which  his  opponents  could 
hardly  reject.  Nobody  could  be  treated  as  a 
criminal  for  obeying  what  the  judges  should 
solemnly  pronounce  to  be  the  lawful  govern- 
ment. The  boldest  man  would  shrink  from 
taking  arms  in  defence  of  what  the  judges 
should  pronounce  to  be  usurpation.  Clavering 
and  Francis,  after  some  delay,  unwillingly  con- 
sented to  abide  by  the  award  of  the  court. 
The  court  pronounced  that  the  resignation  was 
invalid,  and  that  therefore  Hastings  was  still 
Governor-General  under  the  Regulating  Act ; 
and  the  defeated  members  of  the  Council, 
finding  that  the  sense  of  the  whole  settlement 
was  against  them,  acquiesced  in  the  decision. 

About  this  time  arrived  the  news  that,  after 
a suit  which  had  lasted  several  years,  the 
Franconian  courts  had  decreed  a divorce 
between  Imhoff  and  his  wife.  The  Baron  left 
Calcutta,  carrying  with  him  the  means  of  buy- 
ing an  estate  in  Saxony.  The  lady  became 
Mrs.  Hastings.  The  event  was  celebrated  by 
great  festivities  ; and  all  the  most  conspicuous 
persons  at  Calcutta,  without  distinction  of 
parties,  were  invited  to  the  Government-house. 
Clavering,  as  the  Mahommedan  chronicler 
tells  the  story,  was  sick  in  mind  and  body,  and 
excused  himself  from  joining  the  splendid 
assembly.  But  Hastings,  whom,  as  it  should 
seem,  success  in  ambition  and  in  love  had  put 
into  high  good  humor,  would  take  no  denial. 
He  went  himself  to  the  General’s  house,  and 
at  length  brought  his  vanquished  rival  in 
triumph  to  the  gay  circle  which  surrounded  the 


WARREN'  HASTINGS. 


i 07 


bride.  The  exertion  was  too  much  for  a frame 
broken  by  mortification  as  well  as  by  disease. 
Clavering  died  a few  days  later. 

Wheler,  who  came  out  expecting  to  be 
Governor-General,  and  was  forced  to  content 
himself  with  a seat  at  the  council-board,  gen- 
erally voted  with  Francis.  But  the  Governor- 
General,  with  Barwell’s  help  and  his  own  cast- 
ing vote,  was  still  the  master.  Some  change 
took  place  at  this  time  in  the  feeling  both  of 
the  Court  Directors  and  of  the  Ministers  of  the 
Crown.  All  designs  against  Hastings  were 
dropped ; and,  when  his  original  term  of  five 
years  expired,  he  was  quietly  reappointed. 
The  truth  is.  that  the  fearful  dangers  to  which 
the  public  interests  in  every  quarter  were  now 
exposed,  made  both  Lord  North  and  the  Com- 
pany unwilling  to  part  with  a Governor  whose 
talents,  experience,  and  resolution,  enmity 
itself  was  compelled  to  acknowledge.  • 

The  crisis  was  indeed  formidable.  That 
great  and  victorious  empire,  on  the  throne  of 
which  George  the  Third  had  taken  his  seat 
eighteen  years  before,  with  brighter  hopes  than 
had  attended  the  accession  of  any  of  the  long 
line  of  English  sovereigns,  had,  by  the  most 
senseless  misgovernment,  been  brought  to  the 
verge  of  ruin.  In  America  millions  of  English- 
men were  at  war  with  the  country  from  which 
their  blood,  their  language,  their  religion,  and 
their  institutions  were  derived,  and  to  which, 
but  a short  time  before,  they  had  been  as 
strongly  attached  as  the  inhabitants  of  Norfolk 
and  Leicestershire.  The  great  powers  of 
Europe,  humbled  to  the  dust  by  the  vigor  and 
genius  which  had  guided  the  counsels  of  George 
the  Second,  now  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  a 
signal  revenge.  The  time  was  approaching 
when  our  island,  while  struggling  to  keep  down 
the  United  States  of  America,  and  pressed 
with  a still  nearer  danger  by  the  too  just  discon- 
tents of  Ireland,  was  to  be  assailed  by  France, 
Spain,  and  Holland,  and  to  be  threatened  by 


2o8 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


the  armed  neutrality  of  the  Baltic ; when  even 
our  maritime  supremacy  was  to  be  in  jeopardy; 
when  hostile  fleets  were  to  command  the  Straits 
of  Calpe  and  the  Mexican  Sea  ; when  the  British 
flag  was  to  be  scarcely  able  to  protect  the 
British  Channel.  Great  as  were  the  faults  of 
Hastings,  it  was  happy  for  our  country  that  at 
that  conjuncture,  the  most  terrible  through 
which  she  has  ever  passed,  he  was  the  ruler  of 
her  Indian  dominions. 

An  attack  by  sea  on  Bengal  was  little  to 
be  apprehended.  The  danger  was  that  the 
European  enemies  of  England  might  form  an 
alliance  with  some  native  power,  might  furnish 
that  power  with  troops,  arms,  and  ammunition, 
and  might  thus  assail  our  possessions  on  the 
side  of  the  land.  It  was  chiefly  from  the 
Mahrattas  that  Hastings  anticipated  danger. 
The  original  seat  of  that  singular  people  was 
the  wild  range  of  hills  which  runs  along  the 
w'estern  coast  of  India.  In  the  reign  of 
Aurungzebe  the  inhabitants  of  those  regions, 
led  by  the  great  Sevajee,  began  to  descend  on 
the  possessions  of  their  wealthier  and  less  war- 
like neighbors.  The  energy,  ferocity,  and  cun- 
ning of  the  Mahrattas,  soon  made  them  the 
most  conspicuous  among  the  new  powers  which 
were  generated  by  the  corruption  of  the  decay- 
ing monarchy.  At  first  they  were  only  robbers. 
They  soon  rose  to  the  dignity  of  conquerors. 
Half  the  provinces  of  the  empire  were  turned 
into  Mahratta  principalities.  Freebooters, 
sprung  from  low  castes,  and  accustomed  to 
menial  employments,  became  mighty  Rajahs. 
The  Bonslas,  at  the  head  of  a band  of  plun- 
derers, occupied  the  vast  region  of  Berar.  The 
Guicowar,  which  is,  being  interpreted,  the 
Herdsman,  founded  that  dynasty  which  still 
reigns  in  Guzerat.  The  houses  of  Scindia 
and  Holkar  w'axed  great  in  Malwa.  One  ad- 
venturous captain  made  his  nest  on  the  im- 
pregnable rockt)f  Gooti.  Another  became  the 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


209 

lord  of  the  thousand  villages  which  are  scattered 
among  the  green  rice-fields  cf  Tanjore. 

That  was  the  time,  throughout  India,  of 
double  government.  The  form  and  the  power 
were  everywhere  separated.  The  Mussulman 
nabobs  who  had  become  sovereign  princes,  the 
Vizier  in  Oude,  and  the  Nizam  at  Hyderabad, 
still  called  themselves  the  viceroys  of  the  house 
of  Tamerlane.  In  the  same  manner  the  Mah- 
ratta  states,  though  really  independent  of  each 
other,  pretended  to  be  members  of  one  empire. 
They  all  acknowledged,  by  words  and  cere- 
monies, the  supremacy  of  the  heir  of  Sevajee, 
a roi faineant  who  chewed  bang  and  toyed  with 
dancing  girls  in  a state  prison  at  Sattara,  and 
of  his  Peshwa  or  mayor  of  the  palace,  a great 
hereditary  magistrate,  who  kept  a court  with 
kingly  state  at  Poonah,  and  whose  authority 
was  obeyed  in  the  spacious  provinces  of  Au- 
rangabad and  Bejapoor. 

Some  months  before  war  was  declared  in 
Europe  the  government  of  Bengal  was  alarmed 
by  the  news  that  a French  adventurer,  who 
passed  for  a man  of  quality,  had  arrived  at 
Poonah.  It  was  said  that  he  had  been  received 
there  with  great  distinction,  that  he  had  de- 
livered to  the  Peshwa  letters  and  presents 
from  Louis  the  Sixteenth,  and  that  a treaty, 
hostile  to  England,  had  been  concluded  between 
France  and  the  Mahrattas. 

Hastings  immediately  resolved  to  strike  the 
first  blow.  The  title  of  the  Peshwa  was  not 
undisputed.  A portion  of  the  Mahratta  nation 
was  favorable  to  a pretender.  The  Governor- 
General  determined  to  espouse  this  pretender’s 
interest,  to  move  an  army  across  the  peninsula 
of  India,  and  to  form  a close  alliance  with  the 
chief  of  the  House  of  Bonsla,  who  ruled  Berar, 
and  who,  in  power  and  dignity,  was  inferior  to 
none  of  the  M-ahratta  princes. 

The  army  had  marched,  and  the  negotiations 
with  Berar  were  in  progress,  when  a letter  from 
the  English  consul  at  Cairo,  brought  the  news 


2 10 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


that  war  had  been  proclaimed  both  in  London 
and  Paris.  All  the  measures  which  the  crisis 
required  were  adopted  by  Hastings  without  a 
moment’s  delay.  The  French  factories  in 
Bengal  were  seized.  Orders  were  sent  to 
Madras  that  Pondicherry  should  instantly  be 
occupied.  Near  Calcutta,  works  were  thrown 
up  which  thought  to  render  the  approach  of  a 
hostile  force  impossible.  A maritime  estab- 
lishment was  formed  for  the  defence  of  the 
river.  Nine  new  battalions  of  sepoys  were 
raised,  and  a corps  of  native  artillery  was 
formed  out  of  the  hardy  Lascars  of  the  Bay  of 
Bengal.  Having  made  these  arrangements,  the 
Governor-General  with  calm  confidence  pro- 
nounced his  presidency  secure  from  all  attack, 
unless  the  Mahrattas  should  march  against  it 
in  conjunction  with  the  French. 

The  expedition  which  Hastings  had  sent 
westward  was  not  so  speedily  or  completely 
successful  as  most  of  his  undertakings.  The 
commanding  officer  procrastinated.  The  autho- 
rities at  Bombay  blundered.  But  the  Governor- 
General  persevered.  A new  commander  re- 
paired the  errors  of  his  predecessor.  Several 
brilliant  actions  spread  the  military  renown  of 
the  English  through  regions  where  no  European 
flag  had  ever  been  seen.  It  is  probable  that, 
if  a new  and  more  formidable  danger  had  not 
compelled  Hastings  to  change  his  whole  policy, 
his  plans  respecting  the  Mahratta  empire  would 
have  been  carried  into  complete  effect. 

- The  authorities  in  England  had  wisely  sent 
out  to  Bengal,  as  commander  of  the  forces  and 
member  of  the  Council,  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished soldiers  of  that  time.  Sir  Eyre 
Coote  had,  many  years  before,  Jbeen  conspic- 
uous among  the  founders  of  the  British  empire 
in  the  East.  At  the  council  of  war  which  pre- 
ceded the  battle  of  Plassey,  he  earnestly  recom- 
mended, in  opposition  to  the  majority,  that 
daring  course  which,  after  some  hesitation,  was 
adopted,  and  which  was  crowned  with  such 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


2 I X 


splendid  success.  He  subsequently  commanded 
in  the  south  of  India  against  the  brave  and  un- 
fortunate Lally,  gained  the  decisive  battle  of 
Wandewash  over  the  French  and  their  native 
allies,  took  Pondicherry,  and  made  the  English 
power  supreme  in  the  Carnatic.  Since  those 
great  exploits  near  twenty  years  had  elapsed. 
Coote  had  no  longer  the  bodily  activity  which 
he  had  shown  in  earlier  days  ; nor  was  the 
vigor  of  his  mind  altogether  unimpaired.  He 
was  capricious  and  fretful,  and  required  much 
coaxing  to  keep  him  in  good  humor.  It  must, 
we  fear,  be  added  that  the  love  of  money  had 
grown  upon  him,  and  that  he  thought  more 
about  his  allowances,  and  less  about  his  duties, 
than  might  have  been  expected  from  so  eminent 
a member  of  so  noble  a profession.  Still  he 
was  perhaps  the  ablest  officer  that  was  then  to 
be  found  in  the  British  army.  Among  the  na- 
tive soldiers  his  name  was  great  and  his  influ- 
ence unrivalled.  Nor  is  he  yet  forgotten  bv 
them.  Now  and  then  a white-bearded  old 
sepoy  may  still  be  found,  who  loves  to  talk  of 
Porto  N'ovo  and  Pollilore.  It  is  but  a short 
time  since  one  of  those  aged  men  came  to  pre- 
sent a memorial  to  an  English  officer,  who  holds 
one  of  the  highest  employments  in  India.  A 
print  of  Coote  hung  in  the  room.  The  veteran 
recognized  at  once  that  face  and  figure  which 
he  had  not  seen  for  more  than  half  a century, 
and  forgetting  his  saiam  to  the  living,  halted, 
drew  himself  up,  lifted  his  hand,  and  with 
solemn  reverence  paid  his  military  obeisance 
to  the  dead. 

Coote,  though  he  did  not,  like  Barwell,  vote 
constantly  with  the  Governor- General,  was  by 
no  means  inclined  to  join  in  systematic  oppo- 
sition, and  on  most  questions  concurred  with 
Hastings,  who  did  his  best,  by  assiduous  court- 
ship, and  by  readily  granting  the  most  exorbi- 
tant allowances,  to  gratify  the  strongest  pas- 
sions of  the  old  soldier. 

It  seemed  likely  at  this  time  that  a general 


212 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


reconciliation  would  put  an  end  to  the  quarrels 
which  had,  during  some  years,  weakened  and 
disgraced  the  government  of  Bengal.  The 
dangers  of  the  empire  might  well  induce  men 
of  patriotic  feeling, — and  of  patriotic  feeling 
neither  Hastings  nor  Francis  was  destitute, — 
to  forget  private  enmities,  and  to  co-operate 
heartily  for  the  general  good.  Coote  had 
never  been  concerned  in  faction.  Wheler  was 
thoroughly  tired  of  it.  Barwell  had  made  an 
ample  fortune,  and,  though  he  had  promised 
that  he  would  not  leave  Calcutta  while  his 
help  was  needed  in  Council,  was  most  desirous 
to  return  to  England,  and  exerted  himself  to 
promote  an  arrangement  which  would  set  him 
at  liberty. 

A compact  was  made,  by  which  Francis 
agreed  to  desist  from  opposition,  and  Hastings 
engaged  that  the  friends  of  Francis  should  be 
admitted  to  a fair  share  of  the  honors  and 
emoluments  of  the  service.  During  a few 
months  after  this  treaty  there  was  apparent 
harmony  at  the  council-board. 

Harmony,  indeed,  was  never  more  neces- 
sary; for  at  this  moment  internal  calamities, 
more  formidable  than  war  itself,  menaced  Ben- 
gal. The  authors  of  the  Regulating  Act  of 
1773  had  established  two  independent  powers, 
the  one  judicial,  the  other  political ; and,  with 
a carelessness  scandalously  common  in  English 
legislation,  had  omitted  to  define  the  limits  of 
either.  The  judges  took  advantage  of  the  in- 
distinctness, and  attempted  to  draw  to  them- 
selves supreme  authority,  not  only  within  Cal- 
cutta, but  through  the  whole  of  the  great  terri- 
tory subject  to  the  Presidency  of  Fort  William. 
There  are  few  Englishmen  who  will  not  admit 
that  the  English  law,  in  spite  of  modern  im- 
provements, is  neither  so  cheap  nor  so  speedy 
as  might  be  wished.  Still,  it  is  a system  which 
has  grown  up  among  us.  In  some  points  it 
has  been  fashioned  to  suit  our  feelings;  in 
others,  it  has  gradually  fashioned  our  feelings 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


2x3 


to  suit  itself.  Even  to  its  worst  evils  we  are 
accustomed ; and  therefore,  though,  we  may 
complain  of  them,  they  do  not  strike  us  with 
the  horror  and  dismay  which  would  be  pro- 
duced by  a new  grievance  of  smaller  severity. 
In  India  the  case  is  widely  different.  English 
law,  transplanted  to  that  country,  has  all  the 
vices  from  which  we  suffer  here  ; it  has  them 
all  in  a far  higher  degree  ; and  it  has  other 
vices,  compared  with  which  the  worst  vices 
from  which  we  suffer  are  trifles.  Dilatory  here, 
it  is  far  more  dilatory  in  a land  where  the  help 
of  an  interpreter  is  needed  by  every  judge  and 
by  every  advocate.  Costly  here,  it  is  far  more 
costly  in  a land  into  which  the  legal  practi- 
tioners must  be  imported  from  an  immense 
distance.  All  English  labor  in  India,  from  the 
labor  of  the  Governor-general  and  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief,  down  to  that  of  a groom  or  a 
watchmaker,  must  be  paid  for  at  a higher  rate 
than  at  home.  No  man  will  be  banished,  and 
banished  to  the  torrid  zone,  for  nothing.  The 
rule  holds  good  with  respect  to  the  legal  pro- 
fession. No  English  barrister  will  work,  fif- 
teen thousand  miles  from  all  his  friends,  with 
the  thermometer  at  ninety-six  in  the  shade,  for 
the  emoluments  which  will  content  him  in 
chambers  that  overlook  the  Thames.  Accord- 
ingly, the  fees  at  Calcutta  are  about  three  times 
as  great  as  the  fees  of  Westminster  Hall;  and 
this,  though  the  people  of  India  are,  beyond 
all  comparison,  poorer  than  the  people  of  Eng- 
land. Yet  the  delay  and  the  expense,  grievous 
as  they  are,  form  the  smallest  part  of  the  evil 
which  English  law,  imported  without  modifica- 
tions into  India,  could  not  fail  to  produce. 
The  strongest  feelings  of  our  nature,  honor, 
religion,  female  modesty,  rose  up  against  the 
innovation.  Arrest  on  mesne  process  was  the 
first  step  in  most  civil  proceedings ; and  to  a 
native  of  rank  arrest  was  not  merely  a restraint, 
but  a foul  personal  indignity.  Oaths  were  re- 
quired in  every  stage  of  every  suit ; and  the 


214 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


feelings  of  a Quaker  about  an  oath  is  hardly 
stronger  than  that  of  a respectable  native. 
That  the  apartments  of  a woman  of  quality 
should  be  entered  by  strange  men,  or  that  her 
face  should  be  seen  by  them,  are,  in  the  East, 
intolerable  outrages,  outrages  which  are  more 
dreaded  than  death,  and  which  can  be  expiated 
only  by  the  shedding  of  blood.  To  these  out- 
rages the  most  distinguished  families  of  Ben- 
gal, Bahar,  and  Orissa,  were  now  exposed. 
Imagine  what  the  state  of  our  own  country 
would  be,  if  a jurisprudence  were  on  a sudden 
introduced  among  us,  which  should  be  to  us 
what  our  jurisprudence  was  to  our  Asiatic 
subjects.  Imagine  what  the  state  of  our  coun- 
try would  be,  if  it  were  enacted  that  any  man, 
by  merely  swearing  that  a debt  was  due  to 
him,  should  acquire  a right  to  insult  the  per- 
sons of  men  of  the  most  honorable  and  sacred 
callings  and  of  women  of  the  most  shrinking 
delicacy,  to  horsewhip  a general  officer,  to  put 
a bishop  in  the  stocks,  to  treat  ladies  in  the 
way  which  called  forth  the  blow  of  Wat  Tyler. 
Something  like  this  was  the  effect  of  the  at- 
tempt which  the  Supreme  Court  made  to  ex- 
tend its  jurisdiction  over  the  whole  of  the 
Company’s  territory. 

A reign  of  terror  began,  of  terror  heightened 
by  mystery  ; for  even  that  which  was  endured 
was  less  horrible  than  that  which  was  antici- 
pated. No  man  knew  what  was  next  to  be  ex- 
pected from  this  strange  tribunal.  It  came 
from  beyond  the  black  water,  as  the  people  of 
India,  with  mysterious  horror,  call  the  sea.  It 
consisted  of  judges  not  one  of  whom  was 
familiar  with  the  usages  of  the  millions  over 
whom  they  claimed  boundless  authority.  Its 
records  were  kept  in  unknown  characters  ; its 
sentences  were  pronounced  in  unknown  sounds. 
It  had  already  collected  round  itself  an  army 
of  the  worst  part  of  the  native  population,  in- 
formers, and  false  witnesses,  and  common 
barrators,  and  agents  of  chicane,  and  above 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


215 


all,  a banditti  of  bailiffs’  followers,  compared 
with  whom  the  retainers  of  the  worst  English 
spunging-houses,  in  the  worst  times,  might  be 
considered  as  upright  and  tender-hearted. 
Many  natives,  highly  considered  among  their 
countrymen,  were  seized,  hurried  up  to  Cal- 
cutta, flung  into  the  common  jail,  not  for  any 
crime  even  imputed,  not  for  any  debt  that  had 
been  proved,  but  merely  as  a precaution  till 
their  cause  should  come  to  trial.  There  were 
instances  in  which  men  of  the  most  venerable 
dignity,  persecuted  without  a cause  by  extor- 
tioners, died  of  rage  and  shame  in  the  gripe  of 
the  vile  alguazils  of  Impev.  The  harems  of 
noble  Mahommedans,  sanctuaries  respected  in 
the  East  by  governments  which  respected  noth- 
ing else,  were  burst  open  by  gangs  of  bailiffs. 
The  Mussulmans,  braver  and  less  accustomed 
to  submission  than  the  Hindoos  sometimes 
stood  on  their  defence  ; and  there  were  in- 
stances in  which  they  shed  their  blood  in  the 
doorway,  while  defending,  sword  in  hand,  the 
sacred  apartments  of  their  women.  Nay,  it 
seemed  as  if  even  the  faint-hearted  Bengalee, 
who  had  crouched  at  the  feet  of  Surajah 
Dowlah,  who  had  been  mute  during  the  ad- 
ministration of  Vansittart,  would  at  length  find 
courage  in  despair.  No  Mahratta  invasion  had 
ever  spread  through  the  province  such  dismay 
as  this  inroad  of  English  lawyers.  All  the  in- 
justice of  former  oppressors,  Asiatic  and  Euro- 
pean, appeared  as  a blessing  when  compared 
with  the  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court. 

Every  class  of  the  population,  English  and 
native,  with  the  exception  of  the  ravenous 
pettifoggers  who  fattened  on  the  misery  and 
terror  of  an  immense  community,  cried  out 
loudly  against  this  fearful  oppression.  But  the 
judges  were  immovable.  If  a bailiff  was  re- 
sisted, they  ordered  the  soldiers  to  be  called 
out.  If  a servant  of  the  Company,  in  conform- 
ity with  the  orders  of  the  government,  with- 
stood the  miserable  catchpoles  who,  with 


2 1 6 BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

Impey’s  writs  in  their  hands,  exceeded  die  in- 
solence and  rapacity  of  gang- robbers,  he  was 
flung  into  prison  for  a contempt.  The  lapse 
of  sixty  years,  the  virtue  and  wisdom  of  many 
eminent  magistrates  who  have  during  that  time 
administered  justice  in  the  Supreme  Court, 
have  not  effaced  from  the  minds  of  the  people 
of  Bengal  the  recollection  of  those  evil  days. 

The  members  of  the  government  were,  on 
this  subject,  united  as  one  man.  Hastings  had 
courted  the  judges  ; he  had  found  them  use- 
ful instruments ; but  he  was  not  disposed  to 
make  them  his  own  masters,  or  the  masters  of 
India.  His  mind  was  large;  his  knowledge 
of  the  native  character  most  accurate.  He  saw 
that  the  system  pursued  by  the  Supreme  Court 
was  degrading  to  the  government  and  ruinous 
to  the  people  ; and  he  resolved  to  oppose  it 
manfully.  The  consequence  was.  that  the 
friendship,  if  that  be  the  proper  word  for  such 
a connection,  which  had  existed  between  him 
and  Impey,  was  for  a time  completely  dissolved. 
The  government  placed  itself  firmly  between 
the  tyrannical  tribunal  and  the  people.  The 
Chief  Justice  proceeded  to  the  wildest  excesses. 
The  Governor-General  and  all  the  members  of 
Council  were  served  with  writs,  calling  on  them 
to  appear  before  the  King’s  justices,  and  to 
answer  for  their  public  acts.  This  was  too 
much.  Hastings,  with  just  scorn,  refused  to 
obey  the  call,  set  at  liberty  the  persons  wrong- 
fully detained  by  the  Court,  and  took  measures 
for  resisting  the  outrageous  proceedings  of  the 
sheriffs’  officers,  if  necessary,  by  the  sword. 
But  he  had  in  view  another  device,  which 
might  prevent  the  necessity  of  an  appeal  to 
arms.  He  was  seldom  at  a loss  for  an  ex- 
pedient; and  he  knew  Impey  well.  The  ex- 
pedient, in  this  case,  was  a very  simple  one, 
neither  more  nor  less  than  a bribe.  Impey 
was,  by  act  of  parliament,  a judge,  independent 
of  the  government  of  Bengal,  and  entitled  to  a 
salary  of  eight  thousand  a year.  Hastings  pro- 


WARREN-  HASTINGS. 


217 


posed  to  make  him  also  a judge  in  the  com- 
pany’s service,  removable  at  the  pleasure  of 
the  government  of  Bengal ; and  to  give  him, 
in  that  capacity,  about  eight  thousand  a year 
more.  It  was  understood  that,  in  consider- 
ation of  this  new  salary,  Impey  would  desist 
from  urging  the  high  pretensions  of  his  court. 
If  he  did  urge  these  pretensions,  the  govern- 
ment could,  at  a moment’s  notice,  eject  him 
from  the  new  place  which  had  been  created  for 
him.  The  bargain  was  struck ; Bengal  was 
saved  ; an  appeal  to  force  averted  ; and  the 
Chief  Justice  was  rich,  quiet,  and  infamous. 

Of  Impey’s  conduct  it  is  unnecessary  to 
speak.  It  was  of  a piece  with  almost  every 
part  of  his  conduct  that  comes  under  the  notice 
of  history.  No  other  such  judge  has  dishon- 
ored the  English  ermine,  since  Jefferies  drank 
himself  to  death  in  the  Tower.  But  we  cannot 
agree  with  those  who  have  blamed  Hastings 
for  this  transaction.  The  case  stood  thus. 
The  negligent  manner  in  which  the  Regulating 
Act  had  been  framed  put  it  in  the  power  of  the 
Chief  Justice  to  throw  a great  country  into  the 
most  dreadful  confusion.  He  was  determined 
to  use  his  power  to  the  utmost,  unless  he  was 
paid  to  be  still  ; and  Hastings  consented  to 
pay  him.  The  necessity  was  to  be  deplored. 
It  is  also  to  be  deplored  that  pirates  should  be 
able  to  exact  ransom,  by  threatening  to  make 
their  captives  walk  a plank.  But  to  ransom  a 
captive  from  pirates  has  always  been  held  a 
humane  and  Christian  act ; and  it  would  be 
absurd  to  charge  the  payer  of  the  ransom  with 
corrupting  the  virtue  of  the  corsair.  This  we 
seriously  think,  is  a not  unfair  illustration  of 
the  relative  position  of  Impey,  Hastings,  and 
the  people  of  India.  Whether  it  was  right  in 
Impey  to  demand  or  to  accept  a price  for  pow- 
ers which,  if  they  really  belonged  to  him,  he 
could  not  abdicate,  which,  if  they  did  not  be- 
long to  him,  he  ought  never  to  have  usurped,  and 
which  in  neither  case  he  could  honestly  sell,  is 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


2 18 

one  question.  It  is  quite  another  question, wheth 
er  Hastings  was  not  right  to  give  any  sum,  how- 
ever large,  to  any  man,  however  worthless, 
rather  than  either  surrender  millions  of  human 
beings  to  pillage,  or  rescue  them  by  civil  war. 

Francis  strongly  opposed  this  arrangement. 
It  may,  indeed,  be  suspected  that  personal 
aversion  to  Impey  was  as  strong  a motive  with 
Francis  as  regard  for  the  welfare  of  fhe  prov- 
ince. To  a mind  burning  with  resentment,  it 
might  seem  better  to  leave  Bengal  to  the  op- 
pressors than  to  redeem  it  by  enriching  them. 
It  is  not  improbable,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
Hastings  may  have  been  the  more  willing  to 
resort  to  an  expedient  agreeable  to  the  Chief 
Justice,  because  that  high  functionary  had  al- 
ready been  so  serviceable,  and  might,  when 
existing  dissensions  were  composed,  be  service- 
able again. 

But  it  was  not  on  this  point  alone  that 
Francis  was  now  opposed  to  Hastings.  The 
peace  between  them  proved  to  be  only  a short 
and  hollow  truce,  during  which  their  mutual 
aversion  was  constantly  becoming  stronger. 
At  length  an  explosion  took  place.  Hastings 
publicly  charged  Francis  with  having  deceived 
him,  and  with  having  induced  Barwell  to  quit 
the  service  bv  insincere  promises.  Then  came  a 
dispute,  such  as  frequently  arises  even  between 
honorable  men,  when  they  may  make  import- 
ant agreements  by  mere  verbal  communication. 
An  impartial  historian  will  probably  be  of 
opinion  that  they  had  misunderstood  each 
other  ; but  their  minds  were  so  much  embit- 
tered that  they  imputed  to  each  other  nothing 
less  than  deliberate  villanv.  “ I do  not,”  said 
Hastings,  in  a minute  recorded  on  the  Con- 
sultations of  the  Government,  “ I do  not  trust 
to  Mr.  Francis’s  promises  of  candor,  convinced 
that  he  is  incapable  of  it.  I judge  of  his  pub- 
lic conduct  by  his  private,  which  I have  found 
to  be  void  of  truth  and  honor.”  After  the 
Council  had  risen,  Francis  put  a challenge 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


219 


into  the  Governor-General’s  hand.  It  was  in- 
stantly accepted.  They  met  and  fired.  Fran- 
cis was  shot  through  the  body.  He  was  carried 
to  a neighboring  house,  where  it  appeared  that 
the  wound,  though  severe,  was  not  mortal. 
Hastings  inquired  repeatedly  after  his  enemy’s 
health,  and  proposed  to  call  on  him;  but  Fran- 
cis coldly  declined  the  visit.  He  had  a proper 
sense,  he  said,  of  the  Governor-General’s  po- 
liteness, but  could  not  consent  to  any  private 
interview'.  They  could  meet  only  at  the  coun- 
cil-board. 

In  a very  short  time  it  was  made  signally 
manifest  to  how  great  a danger  the  Governor- 
General  had,  on  this  occasion,  exposed  his 
country.  A crisis  arrived  with  which  he,  and 
he  alone,  v'as  competent  to  deal.  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that,  if  he  had  been  taken  from 
the  head  of  affairs,  the  years  1780  and  1781 
would  have  been  as  fatal  to  our  power  in  Asia 
as  to  our  power  in  America. 

The  Mahrattas  had  been  the  chief  objects 
of  apprehension  to  Hastings.  The  measures 
which  he  had  adopted  for  the  purpose  of  break- 
ing their  power,  had  at  first  been  frustrated  by 
the  errors  of  those  whom  he  was  compelled  to 
employ  ; but  his  perseverance  and  ability 
seemed  likely  to  be  crowned  with  success, 
when  a far  more  formidable  danger  showed 
itself  in  another  quarter. 

About  thirty  years  before  this  time,  a Ma- 
hommedan  soldier  had  begun  to  distinguish 
himself  in  the  v'ars  of  Southern  India.  His 
education  had  been  neglected  ; his  extraction 
was  humble.  His  father  had  been  a petty 
officer  of  revenue  ; his  grandfather  a w'andering 
dervise.  But  though  thus  meanly  descended, 
though  ignorant  even  of  the  alphabet,  the  ad- 
venturer had  no  sooner  been  placed  at  the  head 
of  a body  of  troops  than  he  approved  himself  a 
man  born  for  conquest  and  command.  Among 
the  crowd  of  chiefs  who  were  struggling  for  a 
share  of  India,  none  could  compare  with  him 


220 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


in  the  qualities  of  the  captain  and  the  states* 
man.  He  became  a general  ; he  became  a 
sovereign.  Out  of  the  fragments  of  old  princi- 
palities, which  had  gone  to  pieces  in  the 
general  wreck,  he  formed  for  himself  a great, 
compact,  and  vigorous  empire.  That  empire 
he  ruled  with  the  ability,  severity,  and  vigilance 
of  Lewis  the  Eleventh.  Licentious  in  his 
pleasures,  implacable  in  his  revenge,  he  had 
yet  enlargement  of  mind  enough  to  perceive 
how  much  the  prosperity  of  subjects  adds  to 
the  strength  of  governments.  He  was  an  op- 
pressor ; but  he  had  at  least  the  merit  of  pro- 
tecting his  people  against  all  oppression  except 
his  own.  He  was  now  in  extreme  old  age  ; 
but  his  intellect  was  as  clear,  and  his  spirit  as 
high,  as  in  the  prime  of  manhood.  Such  was 
the  great  Hyder  Ali,  the  founder  of  the  Ma- 
hommedan  kingdom  of  Mysore,  and  the  most 
formidable  enemy  with  whom  the  English  con- 
querors of  India  have  ever  had  to  contend. 

Had  Hastings  been  governor  of  Madras, 
Hyder  would  have  been  either  made  a friend, 
or  vigorously  encountered  as  an  enemy.  Un- 
happily the  English  authorities  in  the  South 
provoked  their  powerful  neighbor’s  hostility, 
without  being  prepared  to  repel  it.  On  a sud- 
den, an  army  of  ninety  thousand  men,  far 
superior  in  discipline  and  efficiency  to  any 
other  native  force  that  could  be  found  in  India, 
came  pouring  through  those  wild  passes  which, 
worn  by  mountain  torrents,  and  dark  with 
jungle,  lead  down  from  the  table  land  of  My- 
sore to  the  plains  of  the  Carnatic.  This  great 
army  was  accompanied  by  a hundred  pieces  of 
cannon  ; and  its  movements  were  guided  by 
many  French  officers,  trained  in  the  best  mili- 
tary schools  of  Europe. 

Hyder  was  everywhere  triumphant.  The 
sepoys  in  many  British  garrisons  flung  down 
their  arms.  Some  forts  were  surrendered  by 
treachery,  and  some  by  despair.  In  a few  days 
the  whole  open  country  north  of  the  Coleroon 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


22  1 


had  submitted.  The  English  inhabitants  of 
Madras  could  already  see  by  night,  from  the 
top  of  Mount  St.  Thomas,  the  eastern  sky  red- 
dened by  a vast  semicircle  of  blazing  villages. 
The  white  villas,  to  which  our  countrymen  re- 
tire after  the  daily  labors  of  government  and  of 
trade,  when  the  cooi  evening  breeze  springs  up 
from  the  bay,  were  now  left  without  inhabitants  ; 
for  bands  of  the  fierce  horsemen  of  Mysore  had 
already  been  seen  prowling  among  the  tulip- 
trees,  and  near  the  gay  verandas.  Even  the 
town  was  not  thought  secure,  and  the  British 
merchants  and  public  functionaries  made  haste 
to  crowd  themselves  behind  the  cannon  of 
Fort  St.  George. 

There  were  the  means,  indeed,  of  assembling 
an  army  which  might  have  defended  the  presi- 
dency, and  even  driven  the  invader  back  to  his 
mountains.  Sir  Elector  Munro  was  at  the 
head  of  one  considerable  force  ; Baillie  was 
advancing  with  another.  United,  they  might 
have  presented  a formidable  front  even  to  such 
an  enemy  as  Hvder.  But  the  English  com- 
manders, neglecting  those  fundamental  rules 
of  the  military  art  of  which  the  propriety  is 
obvious  even  to  men  who  had  never  received  a 
military  education,  deferred  their  junction,  and 
were  separately  attacked.  Baillie’s  detach- 
ment was  destroyed.  Munro  was  forced  to 
abandon  his  baggage,  to  fling  his  guns  into  the 
tanks,  and  to  save  himself  by  a retreat  which 
might  be  called  a flight.  In  three  weeks  from 
the  commencement  of  the  war,  the  British  em- 
pire in  Southern  India  had  been  brought  to  the 
verge  of  ruin.  Only  a few  fortified  places  re- 
mained to  us.  The  glory  of  our  arms  had  de- 
parted. It  was  known  that  a great  French 
expedition  might  soon  be  expected  on  the 
coast  of  Coromandel.  England,  beset  by 
enemies  on  every  side,  was  in  no  condition  to 
protect  such  remote  dependencies. 

Then  it  was  that  the  fertile  genius  and  serene 
courage  of  Hastings  achieved  their  most  signal 


222 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


triumph.  A swift  ship,  flying  before  the  south- 
west monsoon,  brought  the  evil  tidings  in  a few 
days  to  Calcutta.  In  twenty-four  hours  the 
Governor-General  had  framed  a complete  plan 
of  policy  adapted  to  the  altered  state  of  affairs. 
The  struggle  with  Hyder  was  a struggle  for 
life  and  death.  All  minor  objects  must  be 
sacrificed  to  the  preservation  of  the  Carnatic. 
The  disputes  with  the  Mahrattas  must  be  ac- 
commodated. A large  military  force  and  a 
supply  of  money  must  be  instantly  sent  to 
Madras.  But  even  these  measures  would  be 
insufficient,  unless  the  war,  hitherto  so  grossly 
mismanaged,  were  placed  under  the  direction 
of  a vigorous  mind.  It  was  no  time  for  trifling. 
Hastings  determined  to  resort  to  an  extreme 
exercise  of  power,  to  suspend  the  incapable 
governor  of  Fort  St.  George,  to  send  Sir  Eyre 
Coote  to  oppose  Hyder,  and  to  intrust  that 
distinguished  general  with  the  whole  adminis- 
tration of  the  war. 

In  spite  of  the  sulien  opposition  of  Francis, 
who  had  now  recovered  from  his  wound,  and 
had  returned  to  the  Council,  the  Governor- 
General’s  wise  and  firm  policy  was  approved 
by  the  majority  of  the  board.  The  reinforce- 
ments were  sent  off  with  great  expedition,  and 
reached  Madras  before  the  French  armament 
arrived  in  the  Indian  seas.  Coote,  broken  by 
age  and  disease,  was  no  longer  the  Coote  of 
Wandewash;  but  he  was  still  a resolute  and 
skilful  commander.  The  progress  of  Hyder 
was  arrested  ; and  in  a few  months  the  great 
victory  of  Porto  Novo  retrieved  the  honor  of 
the  English  arms. 

In  the  mean  time  Francis  had  returned  to 
England,  and  Hastings  was  now  left  perfectly 
unfettered.  VVheler  had  gradually  been  re- 
laxing in  his  opposition,  and,  after  the  depart- 
ure of  his  vehement  and  implacable  colleague, 
co-operated  heartily  with  the  Governor-General, 
whose  influence  over  the  British  in  India, 
always  great,  had,  by  the  vigor  and  success  of 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


223 

his  recent  measures,  been  considerably  in- 
creased. 

But,  though  the  difficulties  arising  from 
factions  within  the  Council  were  at  an  end, 
another  class  of  difficulties  had  become  more 
pressing  than  ever.  The  financial  embarrass- 
ment was  extreme.  Hastings  had  to  find  the 
means,  not  only  of  carrying  on  the  government 
of  Bengal,  but  of  maintaining  a most  costly 
war  against  both  Indian  and  European  enemies 
in  the  Carnatic,  and  of  making  remittances  to 
England.  A few-  years  before  this  time  he  had 
obtained  relief  by  plundering  the  Mogul  and 
enslaving  the  Rohillas;  nor  were  the  resources 
of  his  fruitful  mind  by  any  means  exhausted. 

His  first  design  was  on  Benares,  a city  which 
in  wealth,  population,  dignity,  and  sanctity  was 
among  the  foremost  in  Asia.  It  was  commonly 
believed  that  half  a million  of  human  beings 
was  crowded  into  that  labyrinth  of  lofty  al- 
leys rich  with  shrines,  and  minarets,  and  bal- 
conies, and  carved  oriels,  to  which  the  sacred 
apes  clung  by  hundreds.  The  traveller  could 
scarcely  make  his  way  through  the  press  of 
holy  mendicants  and  not  less  holy  bulls.  The 
broad  and  stately  flights  of  steps  which  descend- 
ed from  these  swarming  haunts  to  the  bathing- 
places  along  the  Ganges  were  worn  every  day 
by  the  footsteps  of  an  innumerable  multitude 
of  worshippers.  The  schools  and  temples  drew 
crowds  of  pious  Hindoos  from  every  province 
where  the  Brahminical  faith  was  known. 
Hundreds  of  devotees  came  thither  every 
month  to  die  ; for  it  was  believed  that  a peculi- 
arly happy  fate  awaited  the  man  who  should 
pass  from  the  sacred  city  into  the  sacred  river. 
Nor  was  superstition  the  only  motive  which  al- 
lured strangers  to  that  great  metropolis.  Com- 
merce had  as  many  pilgrims  as  religion.  All 
along  the  shores  of  the  venerable  stream  lay 
great  fleets  of  vessels  laden  with  rich  merchan- 
dise. From  the  looms  of  Benares  went  forth 
the  most  delicate  silks  that  adorned  the  balls 


224  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

of  St.  James’s  and  of  Versailles;  and  in  the 
bazars,  the  muslins  of  Bengal  and  the  sabres 
of  Oude  were  mingled  with  the  jewels  of  Gol- 
conda  and  the  shawls  of  Cashmere.  This 
rich  capital,  and  surrounding  tract,  had  long 
been  under  the  immediate  rule  of  a Hindoo 
prince,  who  rendered  homage  to  the  Mogul 
emperors.  During  the  great  anarchy  of  India, 
the  lords  of  Benares  became  independent  of 
the  court  of  Delhi,  but  were  compelled  to  sub- 
mit to  the  authority  of  the  Nabob  of  Oude. 
Oppressed  by  this  formidable  neighbor,  they 
invoked  the  protection  of  the  English.  The  Eng- 
lish protection  was  given  ; and  at  length  the 
Nabob  Vizier,  by  a solemn  treaty,  ceded  all  his 
rights  over  Benares  to  the  Company.  From 
that  time  the  Rajah  was  the  vassal  of  the 
government  of  Bengal,  acknowledged  its  su- 
premacy, and  engaged  to  send  an  annual  trib- 
ute to  Fort  William.  This  tribute  Cheyte  Sing, 
the  reigning  prince,  had  paid  with  strict  punct- 
uality. 

About  the  precise  nature  of  the  legal  relation 
between  the  Company  and  the  Rajah  of  Bena- 
res, there  has  been  much  warm  and  acute  con- 
troversy. On  the  one  side  it  has  been  maintained 
that  Cheyte  Sing  was  merely  a great  subject  on 
whom  the  superior  power  had  a right  to  call  for 
aid  in  the  necessities  of  the  empire.  On  the 
other  side,  it  has  been  contended  that  he  was 
an  independent  prince,  that  the  only  claim 
which  the  Company  had  upon  him  was  for  a 
fixed  tribute,  and  that,  while  the  fixed  tribute 
was  regularly  paid,  as  it  assuredly  was,  the 
English  had  no  more  right  to  exact  any  further 
contribution  from  him  than  to  demand  subsidies 
from  Holland  or  Denmark.  Nothing  is  easier 
than  to  find  precedents  and  analogies  in  favor 
of  either  view. 

Our  own  impression  is  that  neither  view  is 
correct.  It  was  too  much  the  habit  of  English 
politicians  to  take  it  for  granted  that  there 
was  in  India  a known  and  definite  constitution 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


225 


by  which  questions  of  this  kind  were  to  be 
decided.  The  truth  is  that,  during  the  interval 
which  elapsed  between  the  fall  of  the  house  of 
Tamerlane  and  the  establishment  of  the  British 
ascendency  there  was  no  such  constitution.  The 
old  order  of  things  had  passed  away  ; the  new  or- 
der of  things  was  not  yet  formed.  All  was  transi- 
tion confusion,  obscurity.  Everybody  kept  his  as 
head  he  best  might,  and  scrambled  for  whatever 
he  could  get.  There  have  been  similar  seasons 
in  Europe.  The  time  of  the  dissolution  of  the 
Carlovingian  empire  is  an  instance.  Who 
would  think  of  seriously  discussing  the  question, 
what  extent  of  pecuniary  aid  and  of  obedience 
Hugh  Capet  had  a constitutional  right  to  de- 
mand from  the  Duke  of  Britanny  or  the  Duke 
of  Normandy  ? The  words  “ constitutional 
right”  had,  in  that  state  of  society,  no  meaning. 
If  Hugh  Capet  laid  hands  on  all’ the  posses- 
sions of  the  Duke  of  Normandy,  this  might 
be  unjust  and  immoral ; but  it  would  not 
be  illegal,  in  the  sense  in  which  the  ordin- 
ances of  Charles  the  Tenth  w'ere  illegal.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  Duke  of  Normandy  made 
war  on  Hugh  Capet,  this  might  be  unjust  and 
immoral ; but  it  would  not  be  illegal,  in  the 
sense  in  which  the  expedition  of  Prince  Louis 
Bonaparte  was  illegal. 

Very  similar  to  this  was  the  state  of  India 
sixty  years  ago.  Of  the  existing  governments 
not  a single  one  could  lay  claim  to  legiti- 
macy, or  could  plead  any  other  title  than 
recent  occupation.  There  w'as  scarcely  a prov- 
ince in  which  the  real  sovereignty  and  the 
nominal  sovereignty  were  not  disjoined.  Titles 
and  forms  were  still  retained  which  implied 
that  the  heir  of  Tamerlane  was  an  absolute 
ruler,  and  that  the  Nabobs  of  the  provinces 
were  his  lieutenants.  In  reality  he  was  a cap- 
tive. The  Nabobs  were  in  some  places  indepen- 
dent princes.  In  other  places,  as  in  Bengal 
and  the  Carnatic,  they  had,  like  their  master, 
become  mere  phantoms,  and  the  Company  was 


226 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


supreme.  Among  the  Mahrattas,  again,  the 
heir  of  Sevajee  still  kept  the  title  of  Rajah  ; 
but  he  was  a prisoner,  and  his  prime  minister, 
the  Peshwa,  had  become  the  hereditary  chief 
of  the  state.  The  Peshwa,  in  his  turn,  was 
fast  sinking  into  the  same  degraded  situation 
into  which  he  had  reduced  the  Rajah.  It  was, 
we  believe,  impossible  to  find,  from  the  Hima- 
layas to  Mysore,  a single  government  which 
was  at  once  a government  de  facto , and  a 
government  de  jure,  which  possessed  the  physi- 
cal means  of  making  itself  feared  by  its  neigh- 
bors and  subjects,  and  which  had  at  the  same 
time  the  authority  derived  from  law  and  long 
prescription. 

Hastings  clearly  discerned  what  was  hidden 
from  most  of  his  contemporaries,  that  such  a 
state  of  things  gave  immense  advantages  to  a 
ruler  of  great  talents  and  few  scruples.  In  every 
international  question  that  could  arise  he  had 
his  option  between  the  de  facto  grounds  and  the 
de  ju?-c  grounds  ; and  the  probability  was  that 
one  of  those  grounds  would  sustain  any  claim 
that  it  might  be  convenient  for  him  to  make, 
and  enable  him  to  resist  any  claim  made  by 
others.  In  every  controversy,  accordingly,  he 
resorted  to  the  plea  which  suited  his  immediate 
purpose,  without  troubling  himself  in  the  least 
about  consistency  : and  thus  he  scarcely  ever 
failed  to  find  what,  to  persons  of  short  memories 
and  scanty  information,  seemed  to  be  a justifica- 
tion for  what  he  wanted  to  do.  Sometimes  the 
Nabob  of  Bengal  is  a shadow,  sometimes  a 
monarch.  Sometimes  the  Vizier  is  a mere 
deputy,  sometimes  an  independent  potentate. 
If  it  is  expedient  for  the  Company  to  show 
some  legal  title  to  the  revenues  of  Bengal,  the 
grant  under  the  seal  of  the  Mogul  is  brought 
forward  as  an  instrument  of  the  highest  author- 
ity. When  the  Mogul  asks  for  the  rents  which 
were  reserved  to  him  by  that  very  grant,  he  is 
told  that  he  is  a mere  pageant,  that  the  English 
power  rests  on  a very  different  foundation 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


227 


from  a charter  given  by  hirn,  that  he  is  wel- 
come to  play  at  royalty  as  long  as  he  likes, 
but  that  he  must  expect  no  tribute  from  the 
real  masters  of  India. 

It  is  true  that  it  was  in  the  power  of  others, 
as  well  as  of  Hastings,  to  practise  this  legerde- 
main ; but  in  the  controversies  of  governments, 
sophistry  is  of  little  use  unless  it  be  backed  by 
power.  There  is  a principle  which  Hastings  was 
fond  of  asserting  in  ,the  strongest  terms,  and 
on  which  he  acted  with  undeviating  steadiness. 
It  is  a principle  which,  we  must  own,  though  it 
may  be  grossly  abused,  can  hardly  be  dis- 
puted in  the  present  state  of  public  law.  It  is 
this,  that  where  an  ambiguous  question  arises 
between  two  governments,  there  is,  if  they 
cannot  agree,  no  appeal  except  by  force,  and 
that  the  opinion  of  the  stronger  must  prevail. 
Almost  every  question  was  ambiguous  in 
India.  The  English  government  was  the 
strongest  in  India.  The  consequences  are 
obvious.  The  English  Government  might  do 
exactly  what  it  chose. 

The  English  government  now  chose  to  wring 
money  out  of  Cheyte  Sing.  It  had  formerly 
been  convenient  to  treat  him  as  a sovereign 
prince  ; it  was  now  convenient  to  treat  him  as 
a subject.  Dexterity  inferior  to  that  of  Hast- 
ings could  easily  find,  in  the  general  chaos  of 
laws  and  customs,  arguments  for  either  course. 
Hastings  wanted  a great  supply.  It  was  known 
that  Cheyte  Sing  had  a large  revenue,  and  it 
was  suspected  that  he  had  accumulated  a 
treasure.  Nor  was  he  a favorite  at  Calcutta. 
He  had,  when  the  Governor-General  was  in 
great  difficulties,  courted  the  favor  of  Francis 
and  Clavering.  Hastings,  who,  less  perhaps 
from  evil  passions  than  from  policy,  seldom 
left  an  injury  unpunished,  was  not  sorry  that 
the  fate  of  Cheyte  Sing  should  teach  neighbor- 
ing princes  the  same  lesson  which  the  fate  of 
Nuncomar  had  already  impressed  on  the  inhab- 
itants of  Bengal. 


228 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESS  A VS. 


In  1778,  on  the  first  breaking  out  of  the  war 
with  France,  Cheyte  Sing  was  called  upon  to 
pay,  in  addition  to  his  fixed  tribute,  an  extra- 
ordinary contribution  of  fifty  thousand  pounds. 
In  1779,  an  equal  sum  was  exacted.  In  1780, 
the  demand  was  renewed.  Cheyte  Sing,  in 
the  hope  of  obtaining  some  indulgence,  se- 
cretly offered  the  Governor-General  a bribe  of 
twenty  thousand  pounds.  Hastings  took  the 
money,  and  his  enemies  have  maintained  that 
he  took  it  intending  to  keep  it.  He  certainly 
concealed  the  transaction,  for  a time,  both 
from  the  Council  in  Bengal  and  from  the  Di- 
rectors at  home  ; nor  did  he  ever  give  any  sat- 
isfactory reason  for  the  concealment.  Public 
spirit,  or  the  fear  of  detection,  at  last  deter- 
mined him  to  withstand  the  temptation.  He 
paid  over  the  bribe  to  the  Company’s  treasury, 
and  insisted  that  the  Rajah  should  instantly 
comply  with  the  demands  of  the  English  gov- 
ernment. The  Rajah,  after  the  fashion  of  his 
countrymen,  shuffled,  solicited,  and  pleaded 
poverty.  The  grasp  of  Blastings  was  not  to  be 
so  eluded.  He  added  to  the  requisition  an- 
other ten  thousand  pounds  as  a fine  for  delay, 
and  sent  troops  to  exact  the  money. 

The  money  was  paid.  But  this  was  not 
enough.  The  late  events  in  the  south  of  India 
had  increased  the  financial  embarrassments  of 
the  Company.  Hastings  was  determined  to 
plunder  Cheyte  Sing,  and,  for  that  end,  to 
fasten  a quarrel  on  him.  Accordingly,  the 
Rajah  was  now  required  to  keep  a body  of 
cavalry  for  the  service  of  the  British  govern- 
ment. He  objected  and  evaded.  This  was 
exactly  what  the  Governor-General  wanted. 
He  had  now  a pretext  for  treating  the  wealthi- 
est of  his  vassals  as  a criminal.  “I  resolved,” 
— these  are  the  words  of  Hastings  himself, — 
“ to  draw  from  his  guilt  the  means  of  relief  of 
the  Company’s  distresses,  to  make  him  pay 
largely  for  his  pardon,  or  to  exact  a severe 
vengeance  for  past  delinquency.”  The  plan 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


229 

was  simply  this,  to  demand  larger  and  larger 
contributions  till  the  Rajah  should  be  driven 
to  remonstrate,  then  to  call  his  remonstrance 
a crime,  and  to  punish  him  by  confiscating  all 
his  possessions. 

Cheyte  Sing  was  in  the  greatest  dismay. 
He  offered  two  hundred  thousand  pounds  to 
propitiate  the  British  government.  But  Hast- 
ings replied  that  nothing  less  than  half  a mil- 
lion would  be  accepted.  Nay,  he  began  to 
think  of  selling  Benares  to  Oude,  as  he  had 
formerly  sold  Allahabad  and  Rohilcund.  The 
matter  was  one  which  could  not  be  well  man- 
aged at  a distance  ; and  Hastings  resolved  to 
visit  Benares. 

Cheyte  Sing  received  his  liege  lord  with 
every  mark  of  reverence,  came  near  sixty  miles, 
with  his  guards,  to  meet  and  escort  the  illus- 
trious visitor,  and  expressed  his  deep  concern 
at  the  displeasure  of  the  English.  He  even 
took  off  his  turban,  and  laid  it  in  the  lap  of 
Hastings,  a gesture  which  in  India  marks  the 
most  profound  submission  and  devotion.  Hast- 
ings behaved  with  cold  and  repulsive  severity. 
Having  arrived  at  Benares,  he  sent  to  the 
Rajah  a paper  containing  the  demands  of  the 
government  of  Bengal.  The  Rajah,  in  reply, 
attempted  to  clear  himself  from  the  accusa- 
tions brought  against  him.  Hastings,  who 
wanted  money  and  not  excuses,  was  not  to  be 
put  off  by  the  ordinary  artifices  of  Eastern  ne- 
gotiation. He  instantly  ordered  the  Rajah  to 
be  arrested  and  placed  under  the  custody  of 
two  companies  of  sepoys. 

In  taking  these  strong  measures,  Hastings 
scarcely  showed  his  usual  judgment.  It  is 
possible  that,  having  had  little  opportunity  of 
personally  observing  any  part  of  the  popula 
tion  of  India,  except  the  Bengalees,  he  was 
not  fully  aware  of  the  difference  between  their 
character  and  that  of  the  tribes  which  inhabit 
the  upper  provinces.  He  was  now  in  a land 
far  more  favorable  to  the  vigor  of  the  human 


230 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  YS. 


frame  than  the  Delta  of  the  Ganges  ; in  a land 
fruitful  of  soldiers,  who  have  been  found  wor- 
thy to  follow  English  battalions  to  the  charge 
and  into  the  breach.  The  Rajah  was  popular 
among  his  subjects.  His  administration  had 
been  mild;  and  the  prosperity  of  the  district 
which  he  governed  presented  a striking  con- 
trast to  the  depressed  state  of  Bahar  under 
our  rule,  and  a still  more  striking  contrast  to 
the  misery  of  the  provinces  which  were  cursed 
by  the  tyranny  of  the  Nabob  Vizier.  The 
national  and  religious  prejudices  with  which 
the  English  were  regarded  throughout  India 
were  peculiarly  intense  in  the  metropolis  of 
the  Brahminical  superstition.  It  can  therefore 
scarcely  be  doubted  that  the  Governor-General, 
before  he  outraged  the  dignity  of  Cheyte  Sing 
by  an  arrest,  ought  to  have  assembled  a force 
capable  of  bearing  down  all  opposition.  This 
had  not  been  done.  The  handful  of  Sepoys 
who  attended  Hastings  would  probably  have 
been  sufficient  to  overawe  Moorshedabad,  or 
the  Black  Town  of  Calcutta.  But  they  were 
unequal  to  a conflict  with  the  hardy  rabble  of 
Benares.  The  streets  surrounding  the  palace 
were  filled  by  an  immense  multitude,  of  whom 
a large  proportion,  as  is  usual  in  Upper  India, 
wore  arms.  The  tumult  became  a fight,  and 
the  fight  a massacre.  The  English  officers  de- 
fended themselves  with  desperate  courage 
against  overwhelming  numbers,  and  fell,  as 
became  them,  sword  in  hand.  The  sepoys 
were  butchered.  The  gates  were  forced. 
The  captive  prince,  neglected  by  his  jailers 
during  the  confusion,  discovered  an  outlet 
which  opened  on  the  precipitous  bank  of  the 
Ganges,  let  himself  down  to  the  water  by  a 
string  made  of  the  turbans  of  his  attendants, 
found  a boat,  and  escaped  to  the  opposite 
shore. 

If  Hastings  had,  by  indiscreet  violence 
brought  himself  into  a difficult  and  perilous 
situation,  it  is  only  just  to  acknowledge  that 


WARREN  NAS  TINGS. 


231 


he  extricated  himself  with  even  more  than  his 
usual  ability  and  presence  of  mind.  He  had 
only  fifty  men  with  him.  The  building  in 
which  he  had  taken  up  his  residence  was  on 
every  side  blockaded  by  the  insurgents.  But 
his  fortitude  remained  unshaken,  The  Rajah 
from  the  other  side  of  the  river  sent  apologies 
and  liberal  offers.  They  were  not  even  an- 
swered. Some  subtle  and  enterprising  men 
w’ere  fouud  who  undertook  to  pass  through 
the  throng  of  enemies,  and  to  convey  the 
intelligence  of  the  late  events  to  the  English 
cantonments.  It  is  the  fashion  of  the  natives 
of  India  to  wear  large  ear-rings  of  gold.  When 
they  travel,  the  rings  are  laid  aside,  lest  the 
precious  metal  should  tempt  some  gang  of  rob- 
bers ; and,  in  place  of  the  ring,  a quill  or  a 
roll  of  paper  is  inserted  in  the  orifice  to  pre- 
vent it  from  closing.  Hastings  placed  in  the 
ears  of  his  messengers  letters  rolled  up  in  the 
smallest  compass.  Some  of  these  letters  were 
addressed  to  the  commanders  of  English 
troops.  One  was  written  to  assure  his  wife  of 
his  safety.  One  was  to  the  envoy  whom  he 
had  sent  to  negotiate  with  the  Mahrattas. 
Instructions  for  the  negotiation  were  needed  ; 
and  the  Governor-General  framed  them  in  that 
situation  of  extreme  danger  with  as  much  com- 
posure as  if  he  had  been  writing  in  his  palace 
at  Calcutta. 

Things,  however,  were  not  yet  at  the  worst. 
An  English  officer  of  more  spirit  than  judg- 
ment, eager  to  distinguish  himself,  made  a 
premature  attack  on  the  insurgents  beyond 
the  river.  His  troops  were  entangled  in  nar- 
row streets,  and  assailed  by  a furious  popula- 
tion. He  fell,  with  many  of  his  men  ; and  the 
survivors  were  forced  to  retire. 

This  event  produced  the  effect  which  has 
never  failed  to  follow  every  check,  however 
slight,  sustained  in  India  by  the  English  arms. 
For  hundreds  of  miles  round,  the  whole  country 
Was  in  commotion,  The  entire  population  of 


2 32 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


the  district  of  Benares  took  arms.  The  fields 
were  abandoned  by  the  husbandmen,  who 
thronged  to  defend  their  prince.  The  infec- 
tion spread  to  Oude.  The  oppressed  people 
of  that  province  rose  up  against  the  Nabob 
Vizier,  refused  to  pay  their  imposts,  and  put 
the  revenue  officers  to  flight.  Even  Bahar 
was  ripe  for  revolt.  The  hopes  of  Cheyte  Sing 
began  to  rise.  Instead  of  imploring  mercy  in 
the  humble  style  of  a vassal,  he  began  to  talk 
the  language  of  a conqueror,  and  threatened, 
it  was  said,  to  sweep  the  white  usurpers  out  of 
the  land.  But  the  English  troops  were  now 
assembling  fast.  The  officers,  and  even  the 
private  men,  regarded  the  Governor-General 
with  enthusiastic  attachment,  and  flew  to  his 
aid  with  an  alacrity  which,  as  he  boasted,  had 
never  been  shown  on  any  other  occasion. 
Major  Popham,  a brave  and  skilful  soldier, 
who  had  highly  distinguished  himself  in  the 
Mahratta  war,  and  in  whom  the  Governor- 
General  reposed  the  greatest  confidence,  took 
the  command.  The  tumultuary  army  of  the 
Rajah  was  put  to  rout.  His  fastnesses  were 
stormed.  In  a few  hours,  above  thirty  thou- 
sand men  left  his  standard,  and  returned  to 
their  ordinary  avocations.  The  unhappy  prince 
fled  from  his  country  forever.  His  fair  do- 
main was  added  to  the  British  dominions. 
One  of  his  relations  indeed  was  appointed 
rajah  ; but  the  Rajah  of  Benares  was  hence- 
forth to  be,  like  the  Nabob  of  Bengal,  a mere 
pensioner. 

By  this  revolution,  an  addition  of  two  hun- 
dred thousand  pounds  a year  was  made  to  the 
revenues  of  the  Company.  But  the  immediate 
relief  was  not  as  great  as  had  been  expected. 
The  treasure  laid  up  by  Cheyte  Sing  had  been 
popularly  estimated  at  a million  sterling.  It 
turned  out  to  be  about  a fourth  part  of  that 
sum ; and,  such  as  it  was,  it  was  seized  by  the 
army,  and  divided  as  prize-money. 

Disappointed  in  his  expectations  from  Bena-> 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


233 


res,  Hastings  was  more  violent  than  he  would 
otherwise  have  been,  in  his  dealings  with  Oude. 
Sujah  Dowlah,  had  long  been  dead.  His  son 
and  successor,  Asaph-ul-Dowlab,  was  one  of 
the  weakest  and  most  vicious  even  of  Eastern 
princess.  His  life  was  divided  between  torpid 
repose  and  the  most  odious  forms  of  sensuality. 
In  his  court  there  was  boundless  waste,  through- 
out his  dominions  wretchedness  and  disorder. 
He  had  been,  under  the  skilful  management 
of  the  English  government,  gradually  sinking 
from  the  rank  of  an  independent  prince  to  that 
of  a vassal  of  the  Company.  It  was  only  by 
the  help  of  a British  brigade  that  he  could  be 
secure  from  the  aggressions  of  neighbors  who 
despised  his  weakness,  and  from  the  vengeance 
of  subjects  who  detested  his  tyranny.  A brig- 
ade was  furnished  ; and  he  engaged  to  defray 
the  charge  of  paying  and  maintaining  it.  From 
that  time  his  independence  was  at  an  end. 
Hastings  was  not  a man  to  lose  the  advantage 
which  he  had  thus  gained.  The  Nabob  soon 
began  to  complain  of  the  burden  which  he  had 
undertaken  to  bear.  His  revenues,  he  said, 
were  falling  off ; his  servants  were  unpaid  ; he 
could  no  longer  support  the  expense  of  the  ar- 
rangement which  he  had  sanctioned.  Hastings 
would  not  listen  to  these  representations.  The 
Vizier,  he  said,  had  invited  the  government  of 
Bengal  to  send  him  troops,  and  had  promised 
to  pay  for  them.  The  troops  had  been  sent. 
How  long  the  troops  were  to  remain  in  Oude 
was  a matter  not  settled  by  the  treaty.  It  re- 
mained, therefore,  to  be  settled  between  the 
contracting  parties.  But  the  contracting  par- 
ties differed.  Who  then  must  decide  ? The 
stronger. 

Hastings  also  argued  that,  if  the  English 
force  was  withdrawn,  Oude  would  certainly  be- 
come a prey  to  anarchy,  and  would  probably  be 
overrun  by  a Mahratta  army.  That  the  finan- 
ces of  Oude  were  embarrassed  he  admitted. 
But  he  contended,  not  without  reason,  that  the 


234 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


embarrassment  was  to  be  attributed  to  the  in- 
capacity and  vices  of  Asaph-ul-Dowlah  himself, 
and  that,  if  less  was  spent  on  the  troops,  the 
only  effect  would  be  that  more  would  be  squan- 
dered on  worthless  favorites. 

Hastings  had  intended,  after  settling  the  af- 
fairs of  Benares,  to  visit  Lucknow,  and  there  to 
confer  with  Asaph-ul-Dowlah.  But  the  obsequi- 
ous courtesy  of  the  Nabob  Vizier  prevented 
this  visit.  With  a small  train  he  hastened  to 
meet  the  Governor-General.  An  interview 
took  place  in  the  fortress,  which,  from  the  crest 
of  the  precipitous  rock  of  Chunar,  looks  down 
on  the  waters  of  the  Ganges. 

At  first  sight  it  might  appear  impossible  that 
the  negotiation  should  come  to  an  amicable 
close.  Hastings  wanted  an  extraordinary  sup- 
ply of  money.  Asaph-ul  Dowlah  wanted  to  ob- 
tain a remission  of  what  he  already  owed. 
Such  a difference  seemed  to  admit  of  no  com- 
promise. There  was,  however,  one  course  sat- 
isfactory to  both  sides,  one  course  by  which  it 
was  possible  to  relieve  the  finances  both  of 
Oude  and  Bengal ; and  that  course  was  adopt- 
ed. It  was  simply  this,  that  the  Governor- 
General  and  the  Nabob  Vizier  should  join  to 
rob  a third  party ; and  the  third  party  whom 
they  determined  to  rob  was  the  parent  of  one 
of  the  robbers. 

The  mother  of  the  late  Nabob,  and  his  wife, 
who  was  the  mother  of  the  present  Nabob,  were 
known  as  the  Begums  or  Princesses  of  Oude. 
They  had  possessed  great  influence  over  Sujah 
Dowlah,  and  had,  at  his  death,  been  left  in  pos- 
session of  a splendid  dotation.  The  domains 
of  which  they  received  the  rents  and  ad- 
ministered the  government  were  of  wide  extent. 
The  treasure  hoarded  by  the  late  Nabob,  a 
treasure  which  was  popularly  estimated  at  near 
three  millions  sterling,  was  in  their  hands. 
They  continued  to  occupy  his  favorite  palace 
at  Fyzabad,  the  Beautiful  Dwelling ; while 
Asaph-ul-Dowlah  held  his  court  in  the  stately 


WARREN  HASTINGS.  ' 


235 


Lucknow,  which  he  had  built  for  himself  on 
the  shores  of  the  Goomti,  and  had  adorned 
with  noble  mosques  and  colleges. 

Asaph-ul-Dowlah  had  already  extorted  con- 
siderable sums  from  his  mother.  She  had  at 
length  appealed  to  the  English  ; and  the  Eng- 
lish had  interfered.  A solemn  compact  had  been 
made,  by  which  she  consented  to  give  her  son 
some  pecuniary  assistance,  and  he  in  his  turn, 
promised  never  to  commit  any  further  invasion 
of  her  rights.  This  compact  was  formally  guar- 
anteed by  the  government  of  Bengal.  But 
times  had  changed  ; money  was  wanted  ; and 
the  power  which  had  given  the  guarantee  was 
not  ashamed  to  instigate  the  spoiler  to  excesses 
such  that  even  he  shrank  from  them. 

It  was  necessary  to  find  some  pretext  for  a 
confiscation  inconsistent,  not  merely  with 
plighted  faith,  not  merely  with  the  ordi- 
nary rules  of  humanity  and  justice,  but  also 
with  that  great  law  of  filial  piety  which,  even 
in  the  wildest  tribes  of  savages,  even  in  those 
more  degraded  communities  which  whether 
under  the  influence  of  a corrupt  half-civiliza- 
tion, retains  a certain  authority  over  the  human 
mind.  A pretext  was  the  last  thing  that  Hast- 
ings was  likely  to  want.  The  insurrection  at 
Benares  had  produced  disturbances  in  Oude. 
These  disturbances  it  was  convenient  to  impute 
to  the  Princesses.  Evidence  for  the  imputa- 
tion there  was  scarcely  any  ; unless  reports 
wandering  from  one  mouth  to  another,  and 
gaining  something  by  every  transmission,  may 
be  called  evidence.  The  accused  were  fur- 
nished with  no  charge  ; they  were  permitted  to 
make  no  defence ; for  the  Governor-General 
wisely  considered  that,  if  he  tried  them,  he 
might  not  be  able  to  find  a ground  for  plunder- 
ing them.  It  was  agreed  between  him  and  the 
Nabob  Vizier  that  the  noble  ladies  should,  by 
a sweeping  act  of  confiscation,  be  stripped  of 
their  domains  and  treasures  for  the  benefit  of 
the  Company,  and  that  the  sums  thus  obtained 


236  BIOGRA  PHICAL  ESS  A YS. 

should  be  accepted  by  the  government  of  Ben- 
gal in  satisfaction  of  its  claims  on  the  govern- 
ment of  Oude. 

While  Asaph-ul-Dowlah  was  at  Chunar,  he 
was  completely  subjugated  by  the  clear  and 
commanding  intellect  of  the  English  statesman. 
But,  when  they  had  separated,  the  Vizier  be- 
gan to  reflect  with  uneasiness  on  the  engage- 
ments into  which  he  had  entered.  His  mother 
and  grandmother  protested  and  implored. 
His  heart,  deeply  corrupted  by  absolute  power 
and  licentious  pleasures,  yet  not  naturally  un- 
feeling, failed  him  in  this  crisis.  Even  the 
English  resident  at  Lucknow,  though  hith- 
erto devoted  to  Hastings,  shrank  from  ex- 
treme measures.  But  the  Governor-General 
was  inexorable.  He  wrote  to  the  resident,  in 
terms  of  the  greatest  severity,  and  declared 
that,  if  the  spoliation  which  had  been  agreed 
upon  were  not  instantly  carried  into  effect,  he 
would  himself  go  to  Lucknow,  and  do  that 
from  which  feebler  minds  recoil  with  dismay. 
The  resident,  thus  menaced,  waited  on  his 
Highness,  and  insisted  that  the  treaty  of  Chu- 
nar should  be  carried  into  full  and  immediate 
effect.  Asaph-ul-Dowlah  yielded,  making  at 
the  same  time  a solemn  protestation  that  he 
yielded  to  compulsion.  The  lands  were  re- 
sumed ; but  the  treasure  was  not  so  easily  ob- 
tained. It  was  necessary  to  use  violence.  A 
body  of  the  Company’s  troops  marched  to 
Fyzabad,  and  forced  the  gates  of  the  palace. 
The  Princesses  were  confined  to  their  own 
apartments.  But  still  they  refused  to  submit. 
Some  more  stringent  mode  of  coercion  was  to 
be  found.  A mode  was  found  of  which,  even 
at  this  distance  of  time,  we  cannot  speak  with- 
out shame  and  sorrow. 

There  were  at  Fyzabad  too  ancient  men, 
belonging  to  that  unhappy  class  which  a prac- 
tice, of  immemorial  antiquity  in  the  East,  has 
excluded  from  the  pleasures  of  love  and  from 
the  hope  of  posterity.  It  has  always  been 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


237 


held  in  Asiatic  courts  that  beings  thus  es- 
tranged from  sympathy  with  their  kind  are 
those  whom  princes  may  most  safely  trust.  Su- 
jah  Dowlah  had  been  of  that  opinion.  He  had 
given  his  entire  confidence  to  the  two  eunuchs  ; 
and  after  his  death  they  remained  at  the  head 
of  the  household  of  his  widow. 

These  men  were,  by  the  orders  of  the  British 
government,  seized,  imprisoned,  ironed,  starved 
almost  to  death,  in  order  to  extort  money 
from  the  Princesses.  After  they  had  been 
two  months  in  confinement,  their  health  gave 
way.  They  implored  permission  to  take  a 
little  exercise  in  the  garden  of  their  prison. 
The  officer  who  was  in  charge  of  them  stated 
that,  if  they  were  allowed  this  indulgence,  there 
was  not  the  smallest  chance  of  their  escaping, 
and  that  their  irons  really  added  nothing  to  the 
security  of  the  custody  in  which  they  were  kept. 
He  did  not  understand  the  plan  of  his  super- 
iors. Their  object  in  these  inflictions  was  not 
security  but  torture  ; and  all  mitigation  was  re- 
fused. Yet  this  was  net  the  worst.  It  was  re- 
solved by  an  English  government  that  these 
two  infirm  old  men  should,  be  delivered  to  the 
tormentors.  For  that  purpose  they  were  re- 
moved to  Lucknow.  What  horrors  their  dun- 
geon there  witnessed  can  only  be  guessed. 
But  there  remains  on  the  records  of  Parliament, 
this  letter,  written  by  a British  resident  to  a 
British  soldier. 

“ Sir,  the  Nabob  having  determined  to  in- 
flict corporal  punishment  upon  the  prisoners 
under  your  guard,  this  is  to  desire  that  his 
officers,  when  they  shall  come,  may  have  free 
access  to  the  prisoners,  and  be  permitted  to  do 
with  them  as  they  shall  see  proper.” 

While  these  barbarities  were  perpetrated  at 
Lucknow,  the  Princesses  were  still  under  duress 
at  Fyzabad.  Food  was  allowed  to  enter  their 
apartments  only  in  such  scanty  quantities  that 
their  female  attendants  were  in  danger  of  per- 
ishing with  hunger.  Month  after  month  this 


238  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

cruelty  continued,  till  at  length,  after  twelve 
hundred  thousand  pounds  had  been  wrung  out 
of  the  Princesses,  Hastings  began  to  think  that 
he  had  really  got  to  the  bottom  of  their  coffers, 
and  that  no  rigor  could  extort  more.  Then  at 
length  the  wretched  men  who  were  detained  at 
Lucknow  regained  their  liberty.  Their  irons 
were  knocked  off,  and  the  doors  of  their 
prison  opened,  their  quivering  lips,  the  tears 
which  ran  down  their  cheeks,  and  the  thanks- 
givings which  they  poured  forth  to  the  common 
Father  of  Mussulmans  and  Christians,  melted 
even  the  stout  hearts  of  the  English  warriors 
who  stood  by. 

But  we  must  not  forgot  to  do  justice  to  Sir 
Elijah  Impey’s  conduct  on  this  occasion.  It 
was  not  indeed  easy  for  him  to  intrude  himself 
into  a business  so  entirely  alien  from  all  his 
official  duties.  But  there  was  something  inex- 
pressibly alluring,  we  must  suppose,  in  the 
peculiar  rankness  of  the  infamy  which  was  then 
to  be  got  at  Lucknow.  He  hurried  thither  as 
fast  as  relays  of  palanquin-bearers  could  carry 
him.  A crowd  of  people  came  before  him  with 
affidavits  against  the  Begums,  ready  drawn  in 
their  hands.  Those  affidavits  he  did  not  read. 
Some  of  them,  indeed,  he  could  not  read  ; for 
they  were  in  the  dialects  of  Northern  India, 
and  no  interpreter  was  employed.  He  ad- 
ministered the  oath  to  the  deponents  with  all 
possible  expedition,  and  asked  not  a single 
question,  not  even  whether  they  had  perused 
the  statements  to  which  they  swore.  This 
work  performed,  he  got  again  into  his  palan- 
quin, and  posted  back  to  Calcutta,  to  be  in 
time  for  the  opening  of  term.  The  cause  was 
one  which,  by  his  own  confession,  lay  altogether 
out  of  his  jurisdiction.  Under  the  charter  of 
justice,  he  had  no  more  right  to  inquire  into 
crimes  committed  by  Asiatics  in  Oude,  than  the 
Lord  President  of  the  Court  of  Sessions  of 
Scotland  to  hold  an  assize  at  Exeter.  He  had 
no  right  to  try  the  Begums,  nor  did  he  pretend 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


239 


to  try  them.  With  what  object,  then,  did  he 
undertake  so  long  a journey  ? Evidently  in 
order  that  he  might  give,  in  an  irregular  man- 
ner, that  sanction  which  in  a regular  manner 
he  could  not  give,  to  the  crimes  of  those  who 
had  recently  hired  him  ; and  in  order  that  a 
confused  mass  of  testimony  which  he  did  not 
sift,  which  he  did  not  even  read,  might  acquire 
an  authority  not  properly  belonging  to  it,  from 
the  signature  of  the  highest  judicial  functionary 
in  Inda. 

The  time  was  approaching,  however,  when 
he  was  to  be  stripped  of  that  robe  which  has 
never,  since  the  Revolution,  been  disgraced  so 
foully  as  by  him.  The  state  of  India  had  for 
some  time  occupied  much  of  the  attention  of 
the  British  Parliament.  Towards  the  close  of 
the  American  war,  two  committees  of  the  Com- 
mons sat  on  Eastern  affairs.  In  one  Edmund 
Burke  took  the  lead.  The  other  was  under  the 
presidency  of  the  able  and  versatile  Henry 
Dundas,  then  Lord  Advocate  of  Scotland. 
Great  as  are  the  changes  which  during  the  last 
sixty  years  have  taken  place  in  our  Asiatic 
dominions,  the  reports  which  those  committees 
laid  on  the  table  of  the  House  will  still  be 
found  most  interesting  and  instructive. 

There  was  as  yet  no  connection  between  the 
Company  and  either  of  the  great  parties  in  the 
state.  The  ministers  had  no  motive  to  defend 
Indian  abuses.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  for 
their  interest  to  show,  if  possible,  that  the  gov- 
ernment and  patronage  of  our  Oriental  empire 
might,  with,  advantage,  be  transferred  to  them- 
selves. The  votes  therefore,  which,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  reports  made  by  the  two  com- 
mittees, were  passed  by  the  Commons,  breathed 
the  spirit  of  stern  and  indignant  justice.  The 
severest  epithets  were  applied  to  several  of  the 
measures  of  Hastings,  especially  to  the  Rohilla 
war  ; and  it  was  resolved,  on  the  motion  of  Mr. 
Dundas,  that  the  Company  ought  to  recall  a 
Governor-General  who  had  brought  such  cal- 


240 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


amities  on  the  Indian  people,  and  such  dis- 
honor on  the  British  name..  An  act  was  passed 
for  limiting  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Supreme 
Court.  The  bargain  which  Hastings  had  made 
with  the  Chief  Justice  was  condemned  in  the 
strongest  terms  ; and  an  address  was  presented 
to  the  king,  praying  that  Impey  might  be  sum- 
moned home  to  answer  for  his  misdeeds. 

Impey  was  recalled  by  a letter  from  the 
Secretary  of  State.  But  the  proprietors  of 
India  Stock  resolutely  refused  to  dismiss  Hast- 
ings from  their  service,  and  passed  a resolution, 
affirming,  what  was  undeniably  true,  that  they 
were  intrusted  by  law  with  the  right  of  naming 
and  removing  their  Governor-General,  and  that 
they  were  not  bound  to  obey  the  directions  of 
a single  branch  of  the  legislature  with  respect 
to  such  nomination  or  removal. 

Thus  supported  by  his  employers,  Hastings 
remained  at  the  head  of  the  government  of 
Bengal  till  the  spring  of  1785.  His  adminis- 
tration, so  eventful  and  stormy,  closed  in  almost 
perfect  quiet.  In  the  Council  there  was  no 
regular  opposition  to  his  measures.  Peace 
was  restored  to  India.  The  Manratta  war  had 
ceased.  Hyder  was  no  more.  A treaty  had 
been  concluded  with  his  son,  Tippoo ; and  the 
Carnatic  had  been  evacuated  by  the  armies  of 
Mysore.  Since  the  termination  of  the  Amer- 
ican war,  England  had  no  European  enemy  or 
rival  in  the  Eastern  seas. 

On  a general  review  of  the  long  admin- 
istration of  Hastings,  it  is  impossible  to  deny 
that,  against  the  great  crimes  by  which  it  is 
blemished,  we  have  to  set  off  great  public  ser- 
vices. England  had  passed  through  a perilous 
crisis.  She  still,  indeed,  maintained  her  place 
in  the  foremost  rank  of  European  powers  ; and 
the  manner  in  which  she  had  defended  herself 
against  fearful  odds  had  inspired  surrounding 
nations  with  a high  opinion  both  of  her  spirit 
and  of  her  strength.  Nevertheless,  in  every 
part  of  the  world,  except  one,  she  had  been  a 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


241 


loser.  Not  only  had  she  been  compelled  to 
acknowledge  the  independence  of  thirteen  col- 
onies peopled  by  her  children,  and  to  conciliate 
the  Irish  by  giving  up  the  right  of  legislating 
for  them  ; but,  in  the  Mediterranean,  in  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico,  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  on  the 
continent  of  America,  she  had  been  compelled 
to  cede  the  fruits  of  her  victories  in  former 
wars.  Spain  regained  Minorca  and  Florida  ; 
France  regained  Senegal,  Goree,  and  several 
West  Indian  Islands.  The  only  quarter  of  the 
world,  in  which  Britain  had  lost  nothing  was 
the  quarter  in  which  her  interests  had  been 
committed  to  the  care  of  Hastings.  In  spite  of 
the  utmost  exertions  both  of  European  and 
Asiatic  enemies,  the  power  of  our  country  in 
the  East  had  been  greatly  augmented.  Benares 
was  subjected  ; the  Nabob  Vizier  reduced  to 
vassalage.  That  our  influence  had  been  thus 
extended,  nay,  that  Fort  William  and  Fort  St. 
George  had  not  been  occupied  by  hostile  armies, 
was  owing,  if  we  may  trust  the  general  voice 
of  the  English  in  India,  to  the  skill  and  reso- 
lution of  Hastings. 

His  internal  administration,  with  all  its 
blemishes,  gives  him  a title  to  be  considered 
as  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  our  his- 
tory. He  dissolved  the  double  government. 
He  transferred  the  direction  of  affairs  to  Eng- 
lish hands.  Out  of  a frightful  anarchy,  he 
deduced  at  least  a rude  and  imperfect  order. 
The  whole  organization  by  which  justice  was 
dispensed,  revenue  collected,  peace  maintained 
throughout  a territory  not  inferior  in  population 
to  the  dominions  of  Louis  the  Sixteenth  or  of 
the  Emperor  Joseph,  was  formed  and  super- 
intended by  him.  He  boasted  that  every  pub- 
lic office,  without  exception,  which  existed  when 
he  left  Bengal,  was  his  creation.  It  is  quite 
true  that  this  system,  after  all  the  improve- 
ments suggested  by  the  experience  of  sixty 
years,  still  needs  improvement,  and  that  it  was 
at  first  far  more  defective  than  it  now  is.  But 


242 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


whoever  seriously  considers  what  it  is  to  con- 
struct from  the  beginning  the  whole  of  a ma- 
chine so  vast  and  complex  as  a government,  will 
allow  that  what  Hastings  effected  deserves 
high  admiration.  To  compare  the  most  cel- 
ebrated European  ministers  to  him  seems  to 
us  as  unjust  as  it  would  be  to  compare  the  best 
baker  in  London  with  Robinson  Crusoe,  who, 
before  he  could  bake  a single  loaf,  had  to  make 
his  plough  and  his  harrow,  his  fences  and  his 
scarecrows,  his  sickle  and  his  flail,  his  mill  and 
his  oven. 

The  just  fame  of  Hastings  rises  still  higher, 
when  we  reflect  that  he  was  not  bred  a states- 
man ; that  he  was  sent  from  school  to  a count- 
ing house  ; and  that  he  was  employed  during 
the  prime  of  his  manhood  as  a commercial 
agent,  far  from  all  intellectual  society. 

Nor  must  we  forget  that  all,  or  almost  all. 
to  whom,  when  placed  at  the  head  of  affairs, 
he  could  apply  for  assistance,  were  persons 
who  owed  as  little  as  himself,  or  less  than  him- 
self, to  education,  A minister  in  Europe  finds 
himself,  on  the  first  day  on  which  he  com- 
mences his  functions,  surrounded  by  exper- 
ienced public  servants,  the  depositories  of 
official  traditions.  Hastings  had  no  such  help. 
His  own  reflection,  his  own  energy,  were  to 
supply  the  place  of  all  Downing  Street  and 
Somerset  House.  Having  had  no  facilities 
for  learning,  he  was  forced  to  teach.  He  had 
first  to  form  himself,  and  then  to  form  his  in- 
struments ; and  this  not  in  a single  department, 
but  in  all  the  departments  of  the  administration. 

It  must  be  added  that,  while  engaged  in  this 
most  arduous  task,  he  was  constantly  tram- 
melled by  orders  from  home,  and  frequently 
borne  down  by  majority  in  council.  The  pre- 
servation of  an  Empire  from  a formidable  com- 
bination of  foreign  enemies,  the  construction 
of  a government  in  all  its  parts,  were  accom- 
plished by  him,  while  every  ship  brought  out 
bales  of  censure  from  his  employers,  and  while 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


2 43 


the  records  of  every  consultation  were  filled 
with  acrimonious  minutes  by  his  colleagues. 
We  believe  that  there  never  was  a public  man 
whose  temper  was  so  severely  tried ; not  Marl- 
borough, when  thwarted  by  the  Dutch  Deputies  ; 
not  Wellington,  when  he  had  to  deal  at  once 
with  the  Portuguese  Regency,  the  Spanish 
Juntas,  and  Mr.  Percival.  But  the  temper  of 
Hastings  was  equal  to  almost  any  trial.  It 
was  not  sweet;  but  it  was  calm.  Quick  and 
vigorous  as  his  intellect  was,  the  patience  with 
which  he  endured  the  most  cruel  vexations, 
till  a remedy  could  be  found,  resembled  the 
patience  of  stupidity.  He  seems  to  have  beei 
capable  of  resentment,  bitter  and  long-ei  wil- 
ing ; yet  his  resentment  so  seldom  hurried 
him  into  any  blunder,  that  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  what  appeared  to  be  revenge  was  any- 
thing but  policy. 

The  effect  of  this  singular  equanimity  was 
that  he  always  had  the  full  command  of  all  the 
resources  of  one  of  the  most  fertile  minds  that 
ever  existed.  Accordingly  no  complication  of 
perils  and  embarrassments  could  perplex  him. 
For  every  difficulty  he  had  a contrivance  ready  ; 
and,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  justice 
and  humanity  of  some  of  his  contrivances,  it  is 
certain  that  they  seldom  failed  to  serve  the 
purpose  for  which  they  were  designed. 

Together  with  this  extraordinary  talent  for 
devising  expedients,  Hastings  possessed,  in  a 
very  high  degree,  another  talent  scarcely  less 
necessary  to  a man  in  his  situation  ; we  mean 
the  talent  for  conducting  political  controversy. 
It  is  as  necessary  to  an  English  statesman  in 
the  East  that  he  should  be  able  to  write,  as  it 
is  to  a minister  in  this  country  that  he  should 
be  able  to  speak.  It  is  chiefly  by  the  oratory 
of  a public  man  here  that  the  nation  judges  of 
his  powers.  It  is  from  the  letters  and  reports 
of  a public  man  in  India  that  the  dispensers  of 
patronage  form  their  estimate  of  him.  In 
each  case,  the  talent  which  receives  peculiar 


244 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


encouragement  is  developed,  perhaps  at  the 
expense  of  the  other  powers.  In  this  country, 
we  sometimes  hear  men  speak  above  their 
abilities.  It  is  not  very  unusual  to  find  gentle- 
men in  the  Indian  service  who  write  above  their 
abilities.  The  English  politician  is  a little  too 
much  of  a debater;  the  Indian  politician  a 
little  too  much  of  an  essayist. 

Of  the  numerous  servants  of  the  Company 
who  have  distinguished  themselves  as  framers 
of  minutes  and  despatches,  Hastings  stands  at 
the  head.  He  was  indeed  the  person  who 
gave  to  the  official  writing  of  the  Indian  govern- 
ments the  character  which  it  still  retains.  He 
was  matched  against  no  common  antagonist. 
But  even  Francis  was  forced  to  acknowledge, 
with  sullen  and  resentful  candor,  that  there 
was  no  contending  against  the  pen  of  Hastings. 
And  in  truth,  the  Governor-General’s  power  of 
making  out  a case,  of  perplexing  what  it  was 
inconvenient  that  people  should  understand, 
and  of  setting  in  the  clearest  point  of  view 
whatever  would  bear  the  light,  was  incom- 
parable. His  style  must  be  praised  with  some 
reservation.  It  was  in  general  forcible,  pure 
and  polished  ; but  it  was  sometimes,  though 
not  often,  turgid,  and,  on  one  or  two  occasions, 
even  bombastic.  Perhaps  the  fondness  of 
Hastings  for  Persian  literature  may  have 
tended  to  corrupt  his  taste. 

And,  since  we  have  referred  to  his  literary 
tastes,  it  would  be  most  unjust  not  to  praise 
the  judicious  encouragement  which,  as  a ruler, 
he  gave  to  liberal  studies  and  curious  re- 
searches. His  patronage  was  extended,  with 
prudent  generosity,  to  voyages,  travels,  experi- 
ments ; publications.  He  did  little,  it  is  true, 
towards  introducing  into  India  the  learning  of 
the  West.  To  make  the  young  natives  of 
Bengal  familiar  with  Milton  and  Adam  Smith, 
to  substitute  the  geography,  astronomy,  and 
surgery  of  Europe  for  the  dotage  of  the  Brah- 
minical  Superstition,  or  for  the  imperfect  science 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


245 


of  ancient  Greece  transfused  through  Arabian 
expositions,  this  was  a scheme  reserved  to 
crown  the  beneficent  administration  of  a far 
more  virtuous  ruler.  Still  it  is  impossible  to 
refuse  high  commendation  to  a man  who,  taken 
from  a ledger  to  govern  an  empire,  overwhelmed 
by  public  business,  surrounded  by  people  as 
busy  as  himself,  and  separated  by  thousands  of 
leagues  from  almost  all  literary  society,  gave,, 
both  by  his  example  and  by  his  munificence,  ai 
great  impulse  to  learning.  In  Persian  and 
Arabic  literature  he  was  deeply  skilled.  With 
the  Sanscrit  he  was  not  himself  acquainted  ; 
but  those  who  first  brought  that  language  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  European  students  owed 
much  to  his  encouragement.  It  was  under 
his  protection  that  the  Asiatic  Society  com- 
menced its  honorable  career.  That  distin- 
guished body  selected  him  to  be  its  first  presi- 
dent ; but  with  excellent  taste  and  feeling,  he 
declined  the  honor  in  favor  of  Sir  William 
Jones.  But  the  chief  advantage  which  the 
students  of  Oriental  letters  derived  from  his 
patronage  remains  to  be  mentioned.  The 
Pundits  of  Bengal  had  always  looked  with  great 
jealousy  on  the  attempts  of  foreigners  to  pry 
into  those  mysteries  which  were  locked  up  in 
the  sacred  dialect.  The  Brahminical  religion 
has  been  persecuted  by  the  Mahommedans. 
What  the  Hindoos  knew  of  the  spirit  of  the 
Portuguese  government  might  warrant  them  in 
apprehending  persecution  from  Christians. 
That  apprehension,  the  wisdom  and  moderation 
of  Hastings  removed.  He  was  the  first  foreign 
ruler  who  succeeded  in  gaining  the  confidence 
of  the  hereditary  priests  of  India,  and  who  in- 
duced them  to  lay  open  to  English  scholars  the 
secrets  of  the  old  Brahminical  theology  and 
jurisprudence. 

It  is  indeed  impossible  to  deny  that,  in  the 
great  art  of  inspiring  large  masses  of  human 
beings  with  confidence  and  attachment,  no 
ruler  ever  surpassed  Hastings.  If  he  had 


246  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

made  himself  popular  with  the  English  by  giv- 
ing up  the  Bengalees  to  extortion  and  oppres- 
sion, or  if,  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  concili- 
ated the  Bengalees  and  alienated  the  English, 
there  would  have  been  no  cause  for  wonder. 
What  is  peculiar  to  him  is  that,  being  the  chief 
of  a small  band  of  strangers,  who  exercised 
boundless  power  over  a great  indigenous  pop- 
ulation, he  made  himself  beloved  both  by  the 
subject  many  and  by  the  dominant  few.  The 
affection  felt  for  him  by  the  civil  service  was 
singularly  ardent  and  constant.  Through  all 
his  disasters  and  perils,  his  brethren  stood  by 
him  with  steadfast  loyalty.  The  army,  at  the 
same  time,  loved  him  as  armies  had  seldom 
loved  any  but  the  greatest  chiefs  who  have  led 
them  to  victory.  Even  in  his  disputes  with 
distinguished  military  men,  he  could  always 
count  on  the  support  of  the  military  profession. 
While  such  was  his  empire  over  the  hearts  of 
of  his  countrymen,  he  enjoyed  among  the 
natives  a popularity,  such  as  other  governors 
have  perhaps  better  merited,  but  such  as  no 
other  governor  has  been  able  to  attain.  He 
spoke  their  vernacular  dialects  with  facility 
and  precision.  He  was  intimately  acquainted 
with  their  feelings  and  usages.  On  one  or 
two  occasions,  for  great  ends,  he  deliberately 
acted  in  defiance  of  their  opinion  ; but  on  such 
occasions  he  gained  more  in  their  respect  than 
he  lost  in  their  love.  In  general,  he  carefully 
avoided  all  that  could  shock  their  national  or 
religious  prejudices.  His  administration  was 
indeed  in  many  respects  faulty  ; but  the  Ben- 
galee standard  of  good  government  was  not 
high.  Under  the  Nabobs,  the  hurricane  of 
Mahratta  cavalry  had  passed  annually  over  the 
rich  alluvial  plain.  But  even  the  Mahratta 
shrank  from  a conflict  with  the  mighty  children 
of  the  sea  ; and  the  immense  rice  harvests  of 
the  Lower  Ganges  were  safely  gathered  in, 
under  the  protection  of  the  English  sword. 
The  first  English  conquerors  had  been  more 


WARREN-  HASTINGS. 


247 


rapacious  and  merciless  even  than  the  Mah- 
rattas  ; but  that  generation  had  passed  away. 
Defective  as  was  the  police,  heavy  as  were  the 
public  burdens,  it  is  probable  that  the  oldest 
man  in  Bengal  could  not  recollect  a season  of 
equal  security  and  prosperity.  For  the  first 
time  within  living  memory,  the  province  was 
placed  under  a government  strong  enough  to 
prevent  others  from  robbing,  and  not  inclined 
to  play  the  robber  itself.  These  things  inspired 
good-will.  At  the  same  time  the  constant 
success  of  Hastings  and  the  manner  in  which 
he  extricated  himself  from  every  difficulty 
made  him  an  object  of  superstitious  admira- 
tion ; and  the  more  than  regal  splendor  which 
he  sometimes  displayed  dazzled  a people  who 
have  much  in  common  with  children.  Even 
now,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  fifty  years, 
the  natives  of  India  still  talk  of  him  as  the 
greatest  of  the  English  ; and  nurses  sing  chil- 
dren to  sleep  with  a jingling  ballad  about  the 
fleet  horses  and  richly  caparisoned  elephants 
of  Sahib  Warren  Hostein. 

The  gravest  offence  of  u’hich  Hastings  was 
guilty  did  not  affect  his  popularity  with  the 
people  of  Bengal ; for  those  offences  were 
committed  against  neighboring  states.  Those 
offences,  as  our  readers  must  have  perceived, 
we  are  not  disposed  to  vindicate  ; yet,  in  order 
that  the  censure  may  be  justly  apportioned  to 
the  transgression,  it  is  fit  that  the  motive  of 
the  criminal  should  be  taken  into  considera- 
tion. The  motive  which  prompted  the  worst 
acts  of  Hastings  was  misdirected  and  ill-regu- 
lated public  spirit.  The  rules  of  justice,  the 
sentiments  of  humanity,  the  plighted  faith  of 
treaties,  were  in  his  view  as  nothing,  when  op- 
posed to  the  immediate  interest  of  the  state. 
This  is  no  justification,  according  to  the  prin- 
ciples either  of  morality,  or  of  what  we  believe 
to  be  identical  with  morality,  namely,  far- 
sighted policy.  Nevertheless  the  common 
sense  of  mankind,  which  in  questions  of  this 


248 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


sort  seldom  goes  far  wrong,  will  always  recog- 
nize a distinction  between  crimes  which  origi- 
nate in  an  inordinate  zeal  for  the  common- 
wealth, and  crimes  which  originate  in  selfish 
cupidity.  To  the  benefit  of  this  distinction 
Hastings  is  fairly  entitled.  There  is,  we  con- 
ceive, no  reason  to  suspect  that  the  Rohilla 
war,  the  revolution  of  Benares,  or  the  spolia- 
tion of  the  Princesses  of  Oude.  added  a rupee 
to  his  fortune.  We  will  not  affirm  that,  in  all 
pecuniary  dealings,  he  showed  that  punctilious 
integrity,  that  dread  of  the  faintest  appearance 
of  evil,  which  is  now  the  glory  of  the  Indian 
civil  service.  But  when  the  school  in  which 
he  had  been  trained  and  the  temptations  to 
which  he  was  exposed  are  considered,  we  are 
more  inclined  to  praise  him  for  his  general 
uprightness  with  respect  to  money,  than  rigidly 
to  blame  him  for  a few  transactions  which 
would  now  be  called  indelicate  and  irregular, 
but  which  even  now  would  hardly  be  designated 
as  corrupt.  A rapacious  man  he  certainly  was 
not.  Had  he  been  so,  he  would  infallibly 
have  returned  to  his  country  the  richest  sub- 
ject in  Europe.  We  speak  within  compass, 
when  we  say  that,  without  applying  any  ex- 
traordinary pressure  he  might  easily  have  ob- 
tained from  the  zemindars  of  the  Company’s 
provinces  and  from  the  neighboring  princes, 
in  the  course  of  thirteen  years,  more  than 
three  millions  sterling,  and  might  have  out- 
shone the  splendor  of  Carlton  House  and  of 
the  Palais  Royal.  He  brought  home  a fortune 
such  as  a Governor-General,  fond  of  state,  and 
careless  of  thrift,  might  easily,  during  so  long 
a tenure  of  office,  save  out  of  his  legal  salary. 
Mrs.  Hastings,  we  are  afraid,  was  less  scrupu- 
lous. It  was  generally  believed  that  she  ac- 
cepted presents  with  great  alacrity,  and  that 
she  thus  formed,  without  the  connivance  of 
her  husband,  a private  hoard  amounting  to 
several  lacs  of  rupees.  We  are  the  more  in- 
clined to  give  credit  to  this  story,  because  Mr, 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


249 

Gleig,  who  cannot  but  have  heard  it,  does 
not,  as  far  as  we  have  observed,  notice  or 
contradict  it. 

The  influence  of  Mrs.  Hastings  over  her 
husband  was  indeed  such  that  she  might  easily 
have  obtained  much  larger  sums  than  she  was 
ever  accused  of  receiving.  At  length  her 
health  began  to  give  way;  and  the  Governor- 
General,  much  against  his  will,  was  compelled 
to  send  her  to  England.  He  seems  to  have 
loved  her  with  that  love  which  is  peculiar  to 
men  of  strong  minds,  to  men  whose  affection 
is  not  easily  won  or  widely  diffused.  The 
talk  of  Calcutta  ran  for  some  time  on  the 
luxurious  manner  in  which  he  fitted  up  the 
round-house  of  an  Indiaman  for  her  accommo- 
dation, on  the  profusion  of  sandal-wood  and 
carved  ivory  which  adorned  her  cabin,  and  on 
the  thousands  of  rupees  which  had  been  ex- 
pended in  order  to  procure  for  her  the  society 
of  an  agreeable  female  companion  during  the 
voyage.  We  may  remark  here  that  the  letters 
of  Hastings  to  his  wife  are  exceedingly  char- 
acteristic. They  are  tender,  and  full  of  indica- 
tions of  esteem  and  confidence  ; but  at  the 
same  time,  a little  more  ceremonious  than  is 
usual  in  so  intimate  a relation.  The  solemn 
courtesy  with  which  he  compliments  “ his 
elegant  Marian  ” reminds  us  now  and  then  of 
the  dignified  air  with  which  Sir  Charles 
Grandison  bowed  over  Miss  Byron’s  hand  in 
the  cedar  parlor. 

After  some  months,  Hastings  prepared  to 
follow  his  wife  to  England.  When  it  was 
announced  that  he  was  about  to  quit  his  office, 
the  feeling  of  the  society  which  he  had  so  long 
governed  manifested  itself  by  many  signs. 
Addresses  poured  in  from  Europeans  and 
Asiatics,  from  civil  functionaries,  soldiers  and 
traders.  On  the  day  on  which  he  delivered  up 
the  keys  of  office,  a crowd  of  friends  and  ad- 
mirers formed  a lane  to  the  quay  where  he 
embarked.  Several  barges  escorted  him  far 


250 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


down  the  river ; and  some  attached  friends 
refused  to  quit  him  till  the  low  coast  of  Bengal 
was  fading  from  the  view,  and  till  the  pilot  was 
leaving  the  ship. 

Of  his  voyage  little  is  known  except  that  he 
amused  himself  with  books  and  with  his  pen  ; 
and  that,  among  the  compositions  by  which  he 
beguiled  the  tediousness  of  that  long  leisure, 
was  a pleasing  imitation  of  Horace’s  Otium 
Divos  rogat.  The  little  poem  was  inscribed 
to  Mr.  Shore,  afterwards  Lord  Teignmouth,  a 
man  of  whose  integrity,  humanity,  and  honor, 
it  is  impossible  to  speak  too  highly,  but  who, 
like  some  other  excellent  members  of  the  civil 
service,  extended  to  the  conduct  of  his  friend 
Hastings  an  indulgence  of  which  his  own  con- 
duct never  stood  in  need. 

The  voyage  was,  for  those  times,  very  speedy. 
Hastings  was  little  more  than  four  months  on 
the  sea.  In  June,  17S5,  he  landed  at  Ply- 
mouth. posted  to  London,  appeared  at  Court, 
paid  his  respects  to  Leadenhall  Street,  and 
then  retired  with  his  wife  to  Cheltenham. 

He  was  greatly  pleased  with  his  reception. 
The  King  treated  him  with  marked  distiction. 
The  Queen,  who  had  already  incurred  much 
censure  on  account  of  the  favor  which,  in  spite 
of  the  ordinary  severity  of  her  virtue,  she  had 
shown  to  the  “elegant  Marian,”  was  not  less 
gracious  to  Hastings.  The  directors  received 
him  in  a solemn  sitting;  and  their  chairman 
read  to  him  a vote  of  thanks  which  they  had 
passed  without  one  dissentient  voice.  “I  find 
myself,”  said  Hastings,  in  a letter  written 
about  a quarter  of  a year  after  his  arrival  in 
England,  “ I find  myself  everywhere,  and  uni- 
versally, treated  with  evidences,  apparent  eveo_ 
to  my  own  observation,  that  I possess  the  good 
opinion  of  my  country.” 

The  confident  and  exulting  tone  of  his  cor- 
respondence about  this  time  is  the  more  re- 
markable, because  he  had  already  received 
ample  notice  of  the  attack  which  was  in  prep* 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


2SI 


aration.  Within  a week  after  he  landed  at 
Plymouth,  Burke  gave  notice  in  the  House  of 
Commons  of  a motion  seriously  affecting  a 
gentleman  lately  returned  from  India.  The 
session,  however,  was  then  so  far  advanced, 
that  it  was  impossible  to  enter  on  so  extensive 
and  important  a subject. 

Hastings,  it  is  clear,  was  not  sensible  of  the 
danger  of  his  position.  Indeed  that  sagacity, 
that  judgment,  that  readiness  in  devising  ex- 
pedients, which  had  distinguished  him  in  the 
East,  seemed  now  to  have  forsaken  him  ; not 
that  his  abilities  were  at  all  impaired ; not 
that  he  was  not  still  the  same  man  who  had 
triumphed  over  Francis  and  Nuncomar,  who 
had  made  the  Chief  Justice  and  the  Nabob 
Vizier  his  tools,  who  had  deposed  Cheyte  Sing, 
and  repelled  Hyder  Ali.  But  an  oak,  as  Mr. 
Grattan  finely  said,  should  not  be  transplanted 
at  fifty.  A man  who,  having  left  England  when 
a boy,  returns  to  it  after  thirty  or  forty  years 
passed  in  India,  will  find,  be  his  talents  what 
they  may,  that  he  has  much  both  to  learn  and 
to  unlearn  before  he  can  take  a place  among 
English  statesmen.  The  working  of  a repre- 
sentative system,  the  war  of  parties,  the  arts  of 
debate,  the  influence  of  the  press,  are  startling 
novelties  to  him.  Surrounded  on  every  side  by 
new  machines  and  new  tactics  he  is  as  much 
bewildered  as  Hannibal  would  have  been  at 
Waterloo,  or  Themistocles  at  Trafalgar.  His 
very  acuteness  deludes  him.  His  very  vigor 
causes  him  to  stumble.  The  more  correct  his 
maxims,  when  applied  to  the  state  of  society  to 
which  he  is  accustomed,  the  more  certain  they 
are  to  lead  him  astray.  This  was  strikingly  the 
case  with  Hastings.  In  India  he  had  a bad 
hand  ; but  he  was  master  of  the  game,  and  he 
won  every  stake.  In  England  he  held  excellent 
cards,  if  he  had  known  how  to  play  them  ; and 
it  was  chiefly  by  his  own  errors  that  he  was 
brought  to  the  verge  of  ruin. 

Of  all  his  errors  the  most  serious  was  per- 


252  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

haps  the  choice  of  a champion.  Clive,  in  sim- 
ilar circumstances,  had  made  a singularly 
happy  selection.  He  put  himself  into  the  hands 
of  Wedderburne,  afterwards  Lord  Loughbor- 
ough, one  of  the  few  great  advocates  who  have 
also  been  great  in  the  House  of  Commons.  To 
the  defence  of  Clive,  therefore,  nothing  was 
wanting,  neither  learning  nor  knowledge  of  the 
world,  neither  forensic  acuteness  nor  that  elo- 
quence which  charms  political  assemblies. 
Hastings  intrusted  his  interests  to  a very  dif- 
ferent person,  a major  in  the  Bengal  army, 
named  Scott.  This  gentleman  had  been  sent 
over  from  India  some  time  before  as  the  agent 
of  the  Governor-General.  It  was  rumored  that 
his  services  were  rewarded  with  Oriental  mu- 
nificence ; and  we  believe  that  he  received 
much  more  than  Hastings  could  conveniently 
spare.  The  Major  obtained  a seat  in  Parlia- 
ment, and  was  there  regarded  as  the  organ  of 
his  employer.  It  was  evidently  impossible  that 
a gentleman  so  situated  could  speak  with  the 
authority  which  belongs  to  an  independent 
position.  Nor  had  the  agent  of  Hastings  the 
talents  necessary  for  obtaining  the  ear  of  an 
assembly  which,  accustomed  to  listen  to  great 
orators,  ha<^  .iaturally  become  fastidious.  He 
was  always  on  his  legs  ; he  was  very  tedious  ; 
and  he  had  only  one  topic,  the  merits  and 
wrongs  of  Hastings.  Everybody  who  knows 
the  House  of  Commons  will  easily  guess  what 
follov/ed.  The  Major  was  soon  considered  as 
the  greatest  bore  of  his  time.  His  exertions 
were  not  confined  to  Parliament.  There  was 
hardly  a day  on  which  the  newspapers  did  not 
contain  some  puff  upon  Hastings,  signed 
Asiaticus  or  Bengalensis , but  known  to  be 
written  by  the  indefatigable  Scott ; and  hardly 
a month  in  which  some  bulky  pamphlet  on  the 
same  subject,  and  from  the  same  pen,  did  not 
pass  to  the  trunkmakers  and  the  pastrycooks. 
As  to  this  gentleman’s  capacity  for  conducting 
a delicate  question  through  Parliament,  our 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


253 


readers  will  want  no  evidence  beyond  that 
which  they  will  find  in  letters  preserved  in 
these  volumes.  We  will  give  a single  specimen 
of  his  temper  and  judgment.  He  designated 
the  greatest  man  then  living  as  “ that  reptile 
Mr.  Burke.” 

In  spite,  however,  of  this  unfortunate  choice, 
the  general  aspect  of  affairs  was  favorable  to 
Hastings.  The  King  was  on  his  side.  The 
Company  and  its  servants  were  zealous  in  his 
cause.  Among  public  men  he  had  many  ardent 
friends.  Such  were  Lord  Mansfield,  who  had 
outlived  the  vigor  of  his  bod}-,  but  not  that  of 
his  mind  ; and  Lord  Lansdowne,  who,  though 
unconnected  with  any  party,  retained  the  im- 
portance which  belongs  to  great  talents  and 
knowledge.  The  ministers  were  generally  be- 
lieved to  be  favorable  to  the  late  Governor- 
General.  They  owed  their  power  to  the  clamor 
which  had  been  raised  against  Mr.  Fox’s  East 
India  Bill.  The  authors  of  that  bill,  when  ac- 
cused of  invading  vested  rights,  and  of  setting 
up  powers  unknown  to  the  constitution,  had 
defended  themselves  by  pointing  to  the  crimes 
of  Hastings,  and  by  arguing  that  abuses  so  ex- 
traordinary justified  extraordinary  measures, 
Those  who,  by  opposing  that  bill,  had  raised 
themselves  to  the  head  of  affairs,  would  natur- 
ally be  inclined  to  extenuate  the  evils  which 
had  been  made  the  plea  for  administering  so 
violent  a remedy;  and  such,  in  fact,  was  their 
general  disposition.  The  Lord  Chancellor  Thur- 
low,  in  particular,  whose  great  place  and  force 
of  intellect  gave  him  a weight  in  the  government 
inferior  only  to  that  of  Mr.  Pitt,  espoused  the 
cause  of  Hastings  with  indecorous  violence. 
Mr.  Pitt,  though  he  had  censured  many  parts 
of  the  Indian  system,  had  studiously  abstained 
from  saying  a word  against  the  late  chief  of  the 
Indian  government.  To  Major  Scott,  indeed, 
the  young  minister  had  in  private  extolled 
Hastings  as  a great,  a wonderful  man,  who  had 
the  highest  claims  on  the  government,  There 


254 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


was  only  one  objection  to  granting  all  that  so 
eminent  a servant  of  the  public  could  ask.  The 
resolution  of  censure  still  remained  on  the 
journals  of  the  house  of  Commons.  That  reso- 
lution was,  indeed,  unjust;  but,  till  it  was  re- 
scinded, could  the  minister  advise  the  King  to 
bestow  any  mark  of  approbation  on  the  person 
censured  ? If  Major  Scott  is  to  be  trusted,  Mr. 
Pitt  declared  that  this  was  the  only  reason 
which  prevented  the  advisers  of  the  Crown 
from  conferring  a peerage  on  the  late  Governor- 
General.  Mr.  Dundas  was  the  only  important 
member  of  the  administration  who  was  deeply 
committed  to  a different  view  of  the  subject. 
He  had  moved  the  resolution  which  created  the 
difficulty  ; but  even  from  him  little  was  to  be 
apprehended.  Since  he  had  presided  over  the 
committee  on  Eastern  affairs,  great  changes  had 
taken  place.  He  was  surrounded  by  new  allies  ; 
he  had  fixed  his  hopes  on  new  objects  ; and 
whatever  may  have  been  his  good  qualities, — 
and  he  had  many, — flattery  itself  never  reck- 
oned rigid  consistency  in  the  number. 

From  the  Ministry,  therefore,  Hastings  had 
every  reason  to  expect  support  ; and  the  Min- 
istry was  very  powerful.  The  Opposition  was 
loud  and  vehement  against  him.  But  the  Op- 
position, though  formidable  from  the  wealth 
and  influence  of  some  of  its  members,  and 
from  the  admirable  talents  and  eloquence  of 
others,  was  outnumbered  in  parliament,  and 
odious  throughout  the  country.  Nor,  as  far  as 
we  can  judge,  was  the  Opposition  generally 
desirous  to  engage  in  so  serious  an  undertak- 
ing as  the  impeachment  of  an  Indian  Governor. 
Such  an  impeachment  must  last  for  years.  It 
must  impose  on  the  chiefs  of  the  party  an  im- 
mense load  of  labor.  Yet  it  could  scarcely,  in 
any  manner,  affect  the  event  of  the  great  polit- 
ical game.  The  followers  of  the  coalition  were 
therefore  more  inclined  to  revile  Hastings  than 
to  prosecute  him.  They  lost  no  opportunity  of 
coupling  his  name  with  the  names  of  the  most 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


255 


hateful  tyrants  of  whom  history  makes  mention. 
The  wits  of  Brooks’s  aimed  their  keenest  sar- 
casms both  at  his  public  and  at  his  domestic 
life.  Some  fine  diamonds  which  he  had  pre- 
sented, as  it  was  rumored,  to  the  royal  family,  * 
and  a certain  richly  carved  ivory  bed  which  the 
Queen  had  done  him  the  honor  to  accept  from 
him,  were  favorite  subjects  of  ridicule.  One 
lively  poet  proposed,  that  the  great  acts  of  the 
fair  Marian’s  present  husband  should  be  immor- 
talized by  the  pencil  of  his  predecessor ; and 
that  Imhoff  should  be  employed  to  embellish 
the  House  of  Commons  with  paintings  of  the 
bleeding  Rohillas,  of  Nuncomar  swinging,  of 
Cheyte  Sing  letting  himself  down  to  the  Ganges. 
Another,  in  an  exquisitely  humorous  parody 
of  Virgil’s  third  eclogue,  propounded  the  ques- 
tion, what  that  mineral  could  be  of  which  the 
rays  had  power  to  make  the  most  austere  of 
princesses  the  friend  of  a wanton.  A third  de- 
scribed, with  gay  malevolence,  the  gorgeous 
appearance  of  Mrs.  Hastings  at  St.  James’s,  the 
galaxy  of  jewels,  torn  from  Indian  Begums, 
which  adorned  her  head  dress,  her  necklace 
gleaming  with  future  votes,  and  the  depending 
questions  that  shone  upon  her  ears.  Satirical 
attacks  of  this  description,  and  perhaps  a mo- 
tion for-a  vote  of  censure,  would  have  satisfied 
the  great  body  of  the  Opposition.  But  there 
were  two  men  whose  indignation  was  not  to 
be  so  appeased,  Philip  Francis  and  Edmund 
Burke. 

Francis  had  recently  entered  the  house  of 
Commons,  and  had  already  established  a char- 
acter there  for  industry  and  ability.  He  labor- 
ed indeed  under  one  most  unfortunate  defect, 
want  of  fluency.  But  he  occasionally  expressed 
himself  with  a dignity  and  energy  worthy  of  the 
greatest  orators.  Before  he  had  been  many 
days  in  parliament,  he  incurred  the  bitter  dis- 
like of  Pitt,  who  constantly  treated  him  with  as 
much  asperity  as  the  laws  of  debate  would 
allow,  Neither  lapse  of  years  nor  change  of 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


256 

scene  had  mitigated  the  enmities  which  Francis 
had  brought  back  from  the  East.  After  his 
usual  fashion,  he  mistook  his  malevolence  for 
virtue,  nursed  it,  as  preachers  tell  us  that  we 
ought  to  nurse  our  good  dispositions,  and 
paraded  it,  on  all  occasions,  with  Pharisaical 
ostentation. 

The  zeal  of  Burke  was  still  fiercer,  but  it  was 
far  purer.  Men  unable  to  understand  the 
elevation  of  his  mind  have  tried  to  find  out 
some  discreditable  motive  for  the  vehemence 
and  pertinacity  which  he  showed  on  this  occa- 
sion. But  they  have  altogether  failed.  The 
idle  story  that  he  had  some  private  slight  to 
revenge  has  long  been  given  up,  even  by  the 
advocates  of  Hastings.  Mr.  Gleig  supposes 
that  Burke  was  actuated  by  party  spirit,  that  he 
retained  a bitter  remembrance  of  the  fall  of  the 
coalition,  that  he  attributed  that  fall  to  the  ex- 
ertions of  the  East  India  interest,  and  that  he 
considered  Hastings  as  the  head  and  the  repre- 
sentative of  that  interest.  This  explanation 
seems  to  be  sufficiently  refuted  by  a reference 
to  dates.  The  hostility  of  Burke  to  Hastings 
commenced  long  before  the  coalition ; and 
lasted  long  after  Burke  had  become  a strenu- 
ous supported  of  those  by  whom  the  coalition 
had  been  defeated.  It  began  when  Burke  and 
Fox,  closely  allied  together,  were  attacking  the 
influence  of  the  crown,  and  calling  for  peace 
with  the  American  republic.  It  continued  till 
Burke,  alienated  from  Fox,  and  loaded  with 
the  favors  of  the  crown,  died,  preaching  a 
crusade  against  the  French  republic.  We 
surely  cannot  attribute  to  the  events  of  1784 
an  enmity  which  began  in  1781,  and  which  re- 
tained undiminished  force  long  after  persons 
far  more  deeply  implicated  than  Hastings  in 
the  events  of  1784  had  been  cordially  forgiven. 
And  why  should  we  look  for  any  other  explana- 
tion of  Burke’s  conduct  than  that  which  we 
find  on  the  surface  ? The  plain  truth  is  that 
Hastings  lrad  committed  some  great  crimes, 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


257 


and  that  the  thought  of  those  crimes  made  the 
blood  of  Burke  boil  in  his  veins.  For  Burke 
was  a man  in  whom  compassion  for  suffering, 
and  hatred  of  injustice  and  tyranny,  were  as 
strong  as  in  Las  Casas  or  Clarkson.  And 
although  in  him,  as  in  Las  Casas  and  in  Clark- 
son, these  noble  feelings  were  alloyed  with  the 
infirmity  which  belongs  to  human  nature,  he  is, 
like  them,  entitled  to  this  great  praise,  that  he 
devoted  years  of  intense  labor  to  the  service  of 
a people  with  whom  he  had  neither  blood  nor 
language,  neither  religion  nor  manners  in  com- 
mon, and  from  whom  no  requital,  no  thanks, 
no  applause  could  be  expected. 

His  knowledge  of  India  was  such  as  few, 
even  of  those  Europeans  who  have  passed 
many  years  in  that  country,  have  attained,  and 
such  as  certainly  was  never  attained  by  any 
public  man  who  had  not  quitted  Europe.  He 
had  studied  the  history,  the  laws,  and  the 
usages  of  the  East  with  an  industry,  such  as  is 
seldom  found  united  to  so  much  genius  and  so 
much  sensibility.  Others  have  perhaps  been 
equally  laborious,  and  have  collected  an  equal 
mass  of  materials.  But  the  manner  in  which 
Burke  brought  his  higher  powers  of  intellect 
to  work  on  statements  of  facts,  and  on  tables 
of  figures,  was  peculiar  to  himself.  In  every 
part  of  those  huge  bales  of  Indian  information 
which  repelled  almost  all  other  readers,  his 
mind,  at  once  philosophical  and  poetical,  found 
something  to  instruct  or  to  delight.  His  reason 
analyzed  and  digested  those  vast  and  shapeless 
masses  ; his  imagination  animated  and  colored 
them.  Out  of  darkness  and  dulness,  and  con- 
fusion, he  formed  a multitude  of  ingenious 
theories  and  vivid  pictures.  He  had,  in  the 
highest  degree,  that  noble  faculty  whereby  man 
is  able  to  live  in  the  past  and  in  the  future,  in 
the  distant  and  in  the  unreal.  India  and  its 
inhabitants  were  not  to  him,  as  to  most  Eng- 
lishmen, mere  names  and  abstractions,  but  a 
real  country  and  a real  people.  The  burning 


BIOGRAPHICAL  RSSA  YS. 


258 

sun,  the  strange  vegetation  of  the  palm  and  the 
cocoa  tree,  the  ricefield,  the  tank,  the  huge 
trees,  older  than  the  Mogul  empire,  under 
which  the  village  crowds  assemble,  the  thatched 
roof  of  the  peasant’s  hut,  the  rich  tracery  of 
the  mosque  where  the  imaum  prays  with  his 
face  to  Mecca,  the  drums,  and  banners,  and 
gaudy  idols,  the  devotee  swinging  in  the  air, 
the  graceful  maiden  with  the  pitcher  on  her 
head,  descending  the  steps  to  the  river-side, 
the  black  faces,  the  long  beards,  the  yellow 
streaks  of  sect,  the  turbans  and  the  flowing 
robes,  the  spears  and  the  silver  maces,  the 
elephants  with  their  canopies  of  state,  the  gor- 
geous palanquin  of  the  prince,  and  the  close 
litter  of  the  noble  lady,  all  these  things  were  to 
him  as  the  objects  amidst  which  his  own  life 
had  been  passed,  as  the  objects  which  lay  on 
the  road  between  Beaconsfield  and  St.  James’s 
Street.  All  India  was  present  to  the  eye  of 
his  mind,  from  the  halls  where  suitors  laid  gold 
and  perfumes  at  the  feet  of  sovereigns  to  the 
wild  moor  where  the  gypsy  camp  was  pitched, 
from  the  bazaar,  humming  like  a bee-hive  with 
the  crowd  of  buyers  and  sellers,  to  the  jungle 
where  the  lonely  courier  shakes  his  bunch  of 
iron  rings  to  scare  away  the  hyenas.  He  had 
just  as  lively  an  idea  of  the  insurrection  at 
Benares  as  of  Lord  George  Gordon’s  riots,  and 
of  the  execution  of  Nuncomar  as  of  the  execu- 
tion of  Dr.  Dodd.  Oppression  in  Bengal  was 
to  him  the  same  thing  as  oppression  in  the 
streets  of  London. 

He  saw  that  Hastings  had  been  guilty  of 
some  most  unjustifiable  acts.  All  that  followed 
was  natural  and  necessary  in  a mind  like 
Burke’s.  His  imagination  and  his  passions, 
once  excited,  hurried  him  beyond  the  bounds 
of  justice  and  good  sense.  His  reason,  powerful 
as  it  was,  became  the  slave  of  feelings  which 
it  should  have  controlled.  His  indignation, 
virtuous  in  its  origin,  acquired  too  much  of  the 
character  of  personal  aversion.  He  could  see 


WARREJV  HASTINGS. 


259 


no  mitigating  circumstance,  no  redeeming 
merit.  His  temper,  which,  though  generous 
and  affectionate,  had  always  been  irritable, 
had  now  been  made  almost  savage  by  bodily 
infirmities  and  mental  vexations.  Conscious  of 
great  powers  and  great  virtues,  he  found  him- 
self, in  age  and  poverty,  a mark  for  the  hatred 
of  a perfidious  court  and  a deluded  people.  In 
Parliament  his  eloquence  was  out  of  date.  A 
young  generation,  which  knew  him  not,  had 
filled  the  House.  Whenever  he  rose  to  speak, 
his  voice  was  drowned  by  the  unseemly  inter- 
ruption of  lads  who  were  in  their  cradles  when 
his  orations  on  the  Stamp  Act  called  forth  the 
applause  of  the  great  Earl  of  Chatham.  These 
things  had  produced  on  his  proud  and  sensi- 
tive spirit  an  effect  at  which  we  cannot  wonder. 
He  could  no  longer  discuss  any  question  with 
calmness,  or  made  allowance  for  honest  differ- 
ences of  opinion.  Those  who  think  that  he  was 
more  violent  and  acrimonious  in  debates  about 
India  than  on  other  occasions  are  ill  informed 
respecting  the  last  years  of  his  life.  In  the 
discussions  on  the  Commercial  Treaty  with  the 
Court  of  Versailles,  on  the  Regency,  on  the 
French  Revolution,  he  showed  even  more 
virulence  than  in  conducting  the  impeachment. 
Indeed  it  may  be  remarked  that  the  very  per- 
sons who  called  him  a mischievous  maniac, 
for  condemning  in  burning  words  the  Rohilla 
war  and  the  spoliation  of  the  Begums,  exalted 
him  into  a prophet  as  soon  as  he  began  to  de- 
claim, with  greater  vehemence,  and  not  with 
greater  reason,  against  the  taking  of  the  Bastile 
and  the  insults  offered  to  Marie  Antoinette. 
To  us  he  appears  to  have  been  neither  a 
maniac  in  the  former  case,  nor  a prophet  in  the 
latter,  but  in  both  cases  a great  and  good  man, 
led  into  extravagance  by  a sensibility  which 
domineered  over  all  his  faculties. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  the  personal 
antipathy  of  Francis,  or  the  nobler  indignation 
of  Burke,  would  have  led  their  party  to  adopt 


26o  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

extreme  measures  against  Hastings,  if  his  own 
conduct  had  been  judicious.  He  should  have 
felt  that,  great  as  his  public  services  had  been, 
he  was  not  faultless,  and  should  have  been 
content  to  make  his  escape,  without  aspiring  to 
the  honors  of  a triumph.  He  and  his  agent 
took  a different  view.  They  were  impatient 
for  the  rewards  which,  as  they  conceived,  were 
deferred  only  till  Burke’s  attack  should  be 
over.  They  accordingly  resolved  to  force  on 
a decisive  action  with  an  enemy  for  whom,  if 
they  had  been  wise,  they  would  have  made  a 
bridge  of  gold.  On  the  first  day  of  the  session 
of  1786,  Major  Scott  reminded  Burke  of  the 
notice  given  in  the  preceding  year,  and  asked 
whether  it  was  seriously  intended  to  bring  any 
charge  against  the  late  Governor-General.  This 
challenge  left  no  course  open  to  the  Opposi- 
tion, except  to  come  forward  as  accusers,  or  to 
acknowledge  themselves  calumniators.  The 
administration  of  Hastings  had  not  been  so 
blameless,  nor  was  the  great  party  of  Fox  and 
North  so  feeble,  that  it  could  be  prudent  to 
venture  on  so  bold  a defiance.  The  leaders  of 
the  Opposition  instantly  returned  the  only  an- 
swer which  they  could  with  honor  return  ; and 
the  whole  party  was  irrevocably  pledged  to  a 
prosecution. 

Burke  began  his  operations  by  applying  for 
Papers.  Some  of  the  documents  for  which  he 
asked  were  refused  by  the  ministers,  who,  in 
the  debate,  held  language  such  as  strongly  con- 
firmed the  prevailing  opinion,  that  they  in- 
tended to  support  Hastings.  In  April,  the 
charges  were  laid  on  the  table.  They  had 
been  drawn  by  Burke  with  great  ability,  though 
in  a form  too  much  resembling  that  of  a 
pamphlet.  Hastings  was  furnished  with  a copy 
of  the  accusation  ; and  it  was  intimated  to  him 
that  he  might,  if  he  thought  fit,  be  heard  in  his 
own  defence  at  the  bar  of  the  Commons. 

Here  again  Hastings  was  pursued  by  the 
same  fatality  which  had  attended  him  ever 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


261 

since  the  day  when  he  set  foot  on  English 
ground.  It  seemed  to  be  decreed  that  this 
man,  so  politic  and  so  successful  in  the  East, 
should  commit  nothing  but  blunders  in  Europe. 
Any  judicious  adviser  would  have  told  him  that 
the  best  thing  which  he  could  do  would  be  to 
make  an  eloquent,  forcible,  and  affecting  ora- 
tion at  the  bar  of  the  House  : but  that,  if  he 
could  not  trust  himself  to  speak,  and  found  it 
necessary  to  read,  he  ought  to  be  as  concise  as 
possible.  Audiences  accustomed  to  extem- 
poraneous debating  of  the  highest  excellence 
are  always  impatient  of  long  written  composi- 
tions. Hastings,  however,  sat  down  as  he 
would  have  done  at  the  Government-house  in 
Bengal,  and  prepared  a paper  of  immense 
length.  That  paper,  if  recorded  on  the  con- 
sultations of  an  Indian  administration,  would 
have  been  justly  praised  as  a very  able  minute. 
But  it  was  now  out  of  place.  It  fell  flat,  as 
the  best  written  defence  must  have  fallen  flat, 
on  an  assembly  accustomed  to  the  animated 
and  strenuous  conflicts  of  Pitt  and  Fox.  The 
members,  as  soon  as  their  curiosity  about  the 
face  and  demeanor  of  so  eminent  a stranger 
was  satisfied,  walked  away  to  dinner,  and  left 
Hastings  to  tell  his  story  till  midnight  to  the 
clerks  and  the  Serjeant-at-arms. 

All  preliminary  steps  having  been  duly  taken, 
Burke,  in  the  beginning  of  June,  brought  for- 
ward the  charge  relating  to  the  Rohilla  war. 
He  acted  discreetly  in  placing  this  accusation 
in  the  van  ; for  Dundas  had  formerly  moved, 
and  the  House  had  adopted,  a resolution  con- 
demning, in  the  most  severe  terms,  the  policy 
followed  by  Hastings  with  regard  to  Rohilcund, 
Dundas  had  little,  or  rather,  nothing  to  say  in 
defence  of  his  own  consistency ; but  he  put  a 
bold  face  on  the  matter,  and  opposed  the 
motion.  Among  other  things,  he  declared  that, 
though  he  still  thought  the  Rohilla  war  un- 
justifiable, he  considered  the  services  which 
Hastings  had  subsequently  rendered  to  the 


262 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


state  as  sufficient  to  atone  even  for  so  great  an 
offence.  Pitt  did  not  speak,  but  voted  with 
Dundas  : and  Hastings  was  absolved  by  a hun- 
dred and  nineteen  votes  against  sixty-seven. 

Hastings  was  now  confident  of  victory.  It 
seemed  indeed,  that  he  had  reason  to  be  so.  The 
Rohilla  war  was,  of  all  his  measures,  that  which 
his  accusers  might  with  greatest  advantage 
assail.  It  had  been  condemned  by  the  Court 
of  Directors.  It  had  been  condemned  by  the 
House  of  Commons.  It  had  been  condemned 
by  Mr.  Dundas,  who  had  since  become  the 
chief  minister  of  the  Crown  for  Indian  affairs. 
Yet  Burke,  having  chosen  this  strong  ground, 
had  been  completely  defeated  on  it.  That 
having  failed  here,  he  should  succeed  on  any 
point,  was  generally  thought  impossible.  It 
u'as  rumored  at  the  clubs  and  coffee  houses  that 
one  or  perhaps  two  more  charges  would  be 
brought  forward,  that  if,  on  those  charges, 
the  sense  of  the  House  of  Commons  should  be 
against  impeachment,  the  Opposition  would 
let  the  matter  drop,  that  Hastings  would  be 
immediately  raised  to  the  peerage,  decorated 
with  the  star  of  the  Bath,  sworn  of  the  privy 
council,  and  invited  to  lend  the  assistance  of 
his  talents  and  experience  to  the  India  board. 
Lord  Thurlow,  indeed,  some  months  before, 
had  spoken  with  contempt  of  the  scruples 
which  prevented  Pitt  from  calling  Hastings  to 
the  House  of  Lords  ; and  had  even  said  that, 
if  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  was  afraid 
of  the  Commons,  there  was  nothing  to  prevent 
the  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal  from  taking  the 
royal  pleasure  about  a patent  of  peerage.  The 
very  title  was  chosen.  Hastings  was  to  be  Lord 
Daylesford.  For,  through  all  changes  of  scene 
and  changes  of  fortune,  remained  unchanged 
his  attachment  to  the  spot  which  had  witnessed 
the  greatness  and  the  fall  of  his  family,  and 
which  had  borne  so  great  a part  in  the  first 
dreams  of  his  young  ambition. 

But  in  a very  few  days  these  fair  prospects 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


263 

were  overcast.  On  the  thirteenth  of  June,  Mr. 
Fox  brought  forward,  with  great  ability  and 
eloquence,  the  charge  respecting  the  treatment 
of  Chevte  Sing.  Francis  followed  on  the  same 
side.  The  friends  of  Hastings  were  in  high 
spirits  when  Pitt  rose.  With  his  usual  abun- 
dance and  felicity  of  language,  the  Minister 
gave  his  opinion  on  the  case.  He  maintained 
that  the  Governor-General  was  justified  in  call- 
ing on  the  Rajah  of  Benares  for  pecuniary  assis- 
tance, and  imposing  a fine  when  that  assistance 
was  contumaciously  withheld.  He  also  thought 
that  the  conduct  of  the  Governor-General  dur- 
ing the  insurrection  had  been  distinguished  by 
ability  and  presence  of  mind.  He  censured, 
with  great  bitterness,  the  conduct  of  Fran- 
cis, both  in  India  and  in  Parliament,  as  most 
dishonest  and  malignant.  The  necessary  in- 
ference from  Pitt’s  arguments  seemed  to  be 
that  Hastings  ought  to  be  honorably  acquitted ; 
and  both  the  friends  and  the  opponents  of  the 
Minister  expected  from  him  a declaration  to 
that  effect.  To  the  astonishment  of  all  parties, 
he  concluded  by  saying  that,  though  he  thought 
it  right  in  Hastings  to  fine  Chevte  Sing  for  con- 
tumacy, yet  the  amount  of  the  fine  was  too  great 
for  the  occasion.  On  this  ground,  and  on  this 
ground  alone,  did  Mr.  Pitt,  applauding  every 
other  part  of  the  conduct  of  Hastings  with  re- 
gard to  Benares,  declare  that  he  should  vote  in 
favor  of  Mr.  Fox’s  motion. 

The  House  was  thunderstruck ; and  it  well 
might  be  so.  For  the  wrong  done  to  Chevte 
Sing,  even  had  it  been  as  flagitious  as  Fox  and 
Francis  contended,  was  a trifle  when  compared 
with  the  horrors  which  had  been  inflicted  on 
Rohilcund.  But  if  Mr.  Pitt’s  view  of  the  case 
of  Chevte  Sing  were  correct,  there  was  no 
ground  for  an  impeachment,  or  even  for  a vote 
of  censure.  If  the  offence  of  Hastings  was 
really  no  more  than  this,  that,  having  a right 
to  impose  a mulct,  the  amount  of  which  mulct 
was  not  defined,  but  was  left  to  be  settled  by 


264  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

his  discretion,  he  had,  not  for  his  own  advan- 
tage,  but  for  that  of  the  state,  demanded  too 
much,  was  this  an  offence  which  required  a 
criminal  proceeding  of  the  highest  solemnity, 
a criminal  proceeding,  to  which,  during  sixty 
years,  no  public  functionary  had  been  sub- 
jected ? We  can  see,  we  think,  in  what  way  a 
man  of  sense  and  integrity  might  have  been 
induced  to  take  any  course  respecting  Hast- 
ings, except  the  course  which  Mr.  Pitt  took. 
Such  a man  might  have  thought  a great  ex- 
ample necessary,  for  the  preventing  of  injus- 
tice, and  for  the  vindicating  of  the  national 
honor,  and  might,  on  that  ground,  have  voted 
for  impeachment  both  on  the  Rohilla  charge, 
and  on  the  Benares  charge.  Such  a man  might 
have  thought  that  the  offences  of  Hastings 
had  been  atoned  for  by  great  services,  and 
might,  on  that  ground,  have  voted  against  the 
impeachment  on  both  charges.  With  great 
diffidence  we  give  it  as  our  opinion  that  the 
most  correct  course  would,  on  the  whole,  have 
been  to  impeach  on  the  Rohilla  charge,  and  to 
acquit  on  the  Benares  charge.  Had  theBenares 
charge  appeared  to  us  in  the  same  light  in 
which  it  appears  to  Mr.  Pitt,  we  should,  with- 
out hesitation,  have  voted  for  acquittal  on  that 
charge.  The  one  course  which  it  is  inconceiv- 
able that  any  man  of  a tenth  part  of  Mr.  Pitt’s 
abilities  can  have  honestly  taken  was  the 
course  which  he  took.  He  acquitted  Hastings 
on  the  Rohilla  charge.  He  softened  down  the 
Benares  charge  till  it  became  no  charge  at  all ; 
and  then  he  pronounced  that  it  contained 
matter  for  impeachment. 

Nor  must  it  be  forgotten  that  the  principal 
reason  assigned  by  the  ministry  for  not  im- 
peaching Hastings  on  account  of  the  Rohilla 
war  was  this,  that  the  delinquencies  of  the 
early  part  of  his  administration  had  been 
atoned  for  by  the  excellence  of  the  later  part. 
Was  it  not  most  extraordinary  that  men  who 
had  held  this  language  could  afterwards  vote 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


265 

that  the  later  part  of  his  administration  fur- 
nished matter  for  no  less  than  twenty  articles 
of  impeachment  ? They  first  represented  the 
conduct  of  Hastings  in  1780  and  1781  as  so 
highly  meritorious  that,  like  works  of  superero- 
gation in  the  Catholic  theology,  it  ought  to  be 
efficacious  for  the  cancelling  of  former  offences  ; 
and  they  then  prosecuted  him  for  his  conduct 
in  1780  and  1781. 

The  general  astonishment  was  the  greater, 
because,  only  twenty-four  hours  before,  the 
members  on  whom  the  minister  could  depend 
had  received  the  usual  notes  from  the  Treasury, 
begging  them  to  be  in  their  places  and  to  vote 
against  Mr.  Fox’s  motion.  It  was  asserted  by 
Mr.  Hastings,  that,  early  in  the  morning  of  the 
very  day  on  which  the  debate  took  place,  Dun- 
das  called  on  Pitt,  woke  him,  and  was  closeted 
with  him  many  hours.  The  result  of  this  con- 
ference was  a determination  to  give  up  the 
late  Governor-General  to  the  vengeance  of  the 
Opposition.  It  was  impossible  even  for  the 
most  powerful  minister  to  carry  all  his  fol- 
lowers with  him  in  so  strange  a course.  Sev- 
eral persons  high  in  office,  the  Attorney- 
General,  Mr.  Grenville,  and  Lord  Mulgrave, 
divided  against  Mr.  Pitt.  But  the  devoted  ad- 
herents who  stood  by  the  head  of  the  govern- 
ment without  asking  questions  were  sufficiently 
numerous  to  turn  the  scale.  A hundred  and 
nineteen  members  voted  for  Mr.  Fox’s  mo- 
tion ; seventy-nine  against  it.  Dundas  silently 
followed  Pitt. 

That  good  and  great  man,  the  late  William 
Wilberforce,  often  related  the  events  of  this  re- 
markable night.  He  described  the  amazement 
of  the  House,  and  the  bitter  reflections  which 
were  muttered  against  the  Prime  Minister  by 
some  of  the  habitual  supporters  of  government. 
Pitt  himself  appeared  to  feel  that  his  con- 
duct required  some  explanation.  He  left  the 
treasury  bench,  sat  for  some  time  next  to  Mr. 
Wilberforce,  and  very  earnestly  declared  that 


2b6 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  YS. 


he  had  found  it  impossible,  as  a man  of  con- 
science, to  stand  any  longer  by  Hastings. 
The  business,  he  said,  was  too  bad.  Mr.  Wil- 
berforce,  we  are  bound  to  add,  fully  believed 
that  his  friend  was  sincere,  and  that  the  suspi- 
cions to  which  this  mysterious  affair  gave  rise 
were  altogether  unfounded. 

Those  suspicions,  indeed,  were  such  as  it  is 
painful  to  mention.  The  friends  of  Hastings, 
most  of  whom,  it  is  to  be  observed,  generally 
supported  the  administration,  affirmed  that  the 
motive  of  Pitt  and  Dundas  was  jealousy.  Hast- 
ings was  personally  a favorite  with  the  King. 
He  was  the  idol  of  the  East  India  Company 
and  of  its  servants.  If  he  were  absolved  by  the 
Commons,  seated  among  the  Lords,  admitted 
to  the  Board  of  Control,  closely  allied  with  the 
strong-minded  and  imperious  Thurlow,  was  it 
not  almost  certain  that  he  would  soon  draw  to 
himself  the  entire  management  of  Eastern 
affairs?  Was  it  not  possible  that  he  might 
become  a formidable  rival  in  the  cabinet  ? It 
had  probably  got  abroad  that  very  singular 
communications  had  taken  place  between  Thur- 
low and  Major  Scott,  and  that,  if  the  First  Lord 
of  the  Treasury  was  afraid  to  recommend  Hast- 
ings for  a peerage,  the  Chancellor  was  ready 
to  take  the  responsibility  of  that  step  on  him- 
self. Of  all  ministers,  Pitt  was  the  least  likely  to 
submit  with  patience  to  such  an  encroachment 
on  his  functions.  If  the  Commons  impeached 
Hastings,  all  danger  was  at  an  end.  The  pro- 
ceeding, however  it  might  terminate,  would  pro- 
bably last  some  years.  In  the  meantime,  the 
accused  person  would  be  excluded  from  honors 
and  public  employments,  and  could  scarcely 
venture  even  to  pay  his  duty  at  court.  Such 
were  the  motives  attributed  bv  a great  part  of 
the  public  to  the  voting  minister,  whose  ruling 
passion  was  generally  believed  to  be  avarice  of 
power. 

The  prorogation  soon  interrupted  the  discus- 
sions respecting  Hastings.  In  the  following 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


267 

year,  those  discussions  were  resumed.  The 
charge  touching  the  spoliation  of  the  Begums 
was  brought  forward  by  Sheridan,  in  a speech 
which  was  so  imperfectly  reported  that  it  may 
be  said  to  be  wholly  lost,  but  which  was,  with- 
out doubt,  the  most  elaborately  brilliant  of  all 
the  productions  of  his  ingenious  mind.  The 
impression  which  it  produced  was  such  as  has 
never  been  equalled.  He  sat  down,  not  merely 
amidst  cheering,  but  amidst  the  loud  clapping 
of  hands,  in  which  the  Lords  below  the  bar 
and  the  strangers  in  the  gallery  joined.  The 
excitement  of  the  House  was  such  that  no 
other  speaker  could  obtain  a hearing  ; and  the 
debate  was  adjourned.  The  ferment  spread 
fast  through  the  town.  Within  four  and  twenty 
hours,  Sheridan  was  offered  a thousand  pounds 
for  the  copyright  of  the  speech,  if  he  would 
.himself  correct  it  for  the  press.  The  impres- 
sion made  by  this  remarkable  display  of  elo- 
quence on  severe  and  experienced  critics, 
whose  discernment  may  be  supposed  to  have 
been  quickened  by  emulation,  was  deep  and 
permanent.  Mr.  Windham,  twenty  years  later, 
said  that  the  speech  deserved  all  its  fame,  and 
was,  in  spite  of  some  faults  of  taste,  such  as 
were  seldom  wanting  either  in  literary  or  in  the 
parliamentary  performances  of  Sheridan,  the 
finest  that  had  been  delivered  within  the 
memory  of  man.  Mr.  Fox,  about  the  same 
time,  being  asked  by  the  late  Lord  Holland 
what  was  the  best  speech  ever  made  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  assigned  the  first  place, 
without  hesitation,  to  the  great  oration  of 
Sheridan  on  the  Oude  charge. 

When  the  debate  was  resumed,  the  tide  ran 
so  strongly  against  the  accused  that  his  friends 
were  coughed  and  scraped  down.  Pitt  de- 
clared himself  for  Sheridan’s  motion  ; and  the 
question  was  carried  by  a hundred  and  seventy- 
five  votes  against  sixtv-eight. 

The  Opposition,  flushed  with  victory  and 
strongly  supported  by  the  public  sympathy, 


268 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


proceeded  to  bring  forward  a succession  of 
charges  relating  chiefly  to  pecuniary  trans- 
actions. The  friends  of  Hastings  were  dis- 
couraged, and,  having  now  no  hope  of  being 
able  to  avert  an  impeachment,  were  not  very 
strenuous  in  their  exertions.  At  length  the 
House,  having  agreed  to  twenty  articles  of 
charge,  directed  Burke  to  go  before  the  Lords, 
and  to  impeach  the  late  Governor-General  of 
High  Crimes  and  Misdemeanors.  Hastings 
was  at  the  same  time  arrested  by  the  Serjeant- 
at-arms  and  carried  to  the  bar  of  the  Peers. 

The  session  was  now  within  ten  days  of  its 
close.  It  was,  therefore,  impossible  that  any 
progress  could  be  made  in  the  trial  till  the 
next  year.  Hastings  was  admitted  to  bail ; 
and  further  proceedings  were  postponed  till  the 
the  Houses  should  re-assemble. 

When  Parliament  met  in  the  following  win- 
ter, the  Commons  proceeded  to  elect  a com- 
mittee for  managing  the  impeachment.  Burke 
stood  at  the  head  ; and  with  him  were  associated 
most  of  the  leading  members  of  the  Opposition. 
But  when  the  name  of  Francis  was  read  a 
fierce  contention  arose.  It  was  said  that 
Francis  and  Hastings  were  notoriously  on  bad 
terms,  that  they  had  been  at  feud  during  many 
years,  that  on  one  occasion  their  mutual  aver- 
sion had  impelled  them  to  seek  each  other’s 
lives,  and  that  it  would  be  improper  and  indeli- 
cate to  select  a private  enemy  to  be  a public  ac- 
cuser. It  was  urged  on  the  other  side  with  great 
force,  particularly  by  Mr.  Windham,  that  impar- 
tiality, though  the  first  duty  of  a judge,  had 
never  been  reckoned  among  the  qualities  of  an 
advocate  ; that  in  the  ordinary  administration 
of  criminal  justice  among  the  English,  the  ag- 
grieved party,  the  very  last  person  who  ought 
to  be  admitted  into  the  jury-box,  is  the  prose- 
cutor ; that  what  was  wanted  in  a manager  was, 
not  that  he  should  be  free  from  bias,  but  that 
he  should  be  able,  well-informed,  energetic, 
and  active.  The  ability  and  information  of 


WARREK'  HASTINGS. 


269 

Francis  was  admitted  ; and  the  very  animosity 
with  which  he  was  reproached,  whether  a virtue 
or  a vice,  was  at  least  a pledge  for  his  energy 
and  activity.  It  seems  difficult  to  refute  these 
arguments.  But  the  inveterate  hatred  borne 
bv  Francis  to  Hastings  had  excited  general 
disgust.  The  House  decided  that  Francis 
should  not  be  a manager.  Pitt  voted  with  the 
majority,  Dundas  with  the  minority. 

In  the  meantime,  the  preparations  for  the 
trial  had  proceeded  rapidly ; and  on  the  thir- 
teenth of  February,  1788,  the  sittings  of  the 
Court  commenced.  There  have  been  specta- 
cles more  dazzling  to  the  eye,  more  gorgeous 
with  jewelry  and  cloth  of  gold,  more  attractive 
to  grown-up  children,  than  that  which  was  then 
exhibited  at  Westminster ; but,  perhaps,  there 
never  was  a spectacle  so  well  calculated  to 
strike  a highly  cultivated,  a reflecting,  an  im- 
aginative mind.  All  the  various  kinds  of  in- 
terest which  belong  to  the  near  and  to  the  dis- 
tant, to  the  present  and  to  the  past,  were  col- 
lected on  one  spot  and  in  one  hour.  All  the 
talents  and  all  the  accomplishments  which  are 
developed  by  liberty  and  civilization  were  now 
displayed,  with  every  advantage  that  could  be 
derived  both  from  co-operation  and  from  con- 
trast. Every  step  in  the  proceedings  carried 
the  mind  either  backward,  through  many 
troubled  centuries,  to  the  days  when  the  foun- 
dations of  our  constitution  were  laid  ; or  far 
away,  over  boundless  seas  and  deserts,  to 
dusky  nations  living  under  strange  stars,  wor- 
shipping strange  gods,  and  writing  strange 
characters  from  right  to  left.  The  High  Court 
of  Parliament  was  to  sit,  according  to  forms 
handed  down  from  the  days  of  the  Plantage- 
nets,  on  an  Englishman  accused  of  exercising 
tyranny  over  the  lord  of  the  holy  city  of  Be- 
nares, and  over  the  ladies  of  the  princely  house 
of  Oude. 

The  place  was  worthy  of  such  a trial.  It 
was  the  great  house  of  William  Rufus,  the  hall 


270 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


which  had  resounded  with  acclamations  at  the 
inauguration  of  thirty  kings,  the  hall  which  had 
witnessed  the  just  sentence  of  Bacon  and  the 
just  absolution  of  Somers,  the  hall  where  the 
eloquence  of  Strafford  had  for  a moment  awed 
and  melted  a victorious  party  inflamed  with 
just  resentment,  the  hall  where  Charles  had 
confronted  the  High  Court  of  Justice  with  the 
placid  courage  which  has  half  redeemed  his 
fame.  Neither  military  nor  civil  pomp  was 
wanting.  The  avenues  were  lined  with  grena- 
diers. The  streets  were  kept  clear  by  cavalry. 
The  peers,  robed  in  gold  and  ermine,  were 
marshalled  bv  the  heralds  under  Garter  King- 
at-arms.  The  judges  in  their  vestments  of 
state  attended  to  give  advice  on  points  of  law. 
Near  a hundred  and  seventy  lords,  three 
fourths  of  the  Upper  House  as  the  Upper 
House  then  was,  walked  in  solemn  order  from 
their  usual  place  of  assembling  to  the  tribunal. 
The  junior  Baron  present  led  the  way,  George 
Eliott,  Lord  Heathfield,  recently  ennobled  for 
his  memorable  defence  of  Gibraltar  against  the 
fleets  and  armies  of  France  and  Spain.  The 
long  procession  was  closed  by  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  Earl  Marshal  of  the  realm,  by  the 
great  dignitaries,  and  by  the  brothers  and  sons 
of  the  King.  Last  of  all  came  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  conspicuous  by  his  fine  person  and 
noble  bearing.  The  gray  old  walls  were  hung 
with  scarlet.  The  long  galleries  were  crowded 
by  an  audience  such  as  has  rarely  excited  the 
fears  or  the  emulations  of  an  orator.  There 
were  gathered  together,  from  all  parts  of  a 
great,  free,  enlightened,  and  prosperous  em- 
pire, grace  and  female  loveliness,  wit  and 
learning,  the  representatives  of  every  science 
and  of  every  art.  There  were  seated  round 
the  Queen  the  fair-haired  young  daughters  of 
the  House  of  Brunswick.  There  the  Ambas- 
sadors of  great  Kings  and  Commonwealths 
gazed  with  admiration  on  a spectacle  which  no 
other  country  in  the  world  could  present. 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


271 

There  Siddons,  in  the  prime  of  her  majestic 
beauty,  looked  with  emotion  on  a scene  sur- 
passing all  the  imitations  of  the  stage.  There 
the  historian  of  the  Roman  Empire  thought  of 
the  days  when  Cicero  pleaded  the  cause  of 
Sicily  against  Verres,  and  when,  before  a sen- 
ate which  still  retained  some  show  of  freedom, 
Tacitus  thundered  against  the  oppressor  of 
Africa.  There  were  seen  side  by  side  the 
greatest  painter  and  the  greatest  scholar  of  the 
age.  The  spectacle  had  allured  Reynolds  from 
that  easel  which  preserved  to  us  the  thoughtful 
foreheads  of  so  many  writers  and  statesmen, 
and  the  sweet  smiles  of  so  many  noble  matrons. 
It  had  induced  Parr  to  suspend  his  labors  in 
that  dark  and  profound  mine  from  which  he 
had  extracted  a vast  treasure  of  erudition,  a 
treasure  too  often  buried  in  the  earth,  too  often 
paraded  with  injudicious  and  inelegant  ostenta- 
tion, but  still  precious,  massive,  and  splendid. 
There  appeared  the  voluptuous  charms  of  her 
to  whom  the  heir  of  the  throne  had  in  secret 
plighted  his  faith.  There  too  was.  she,  the 
beautiful  mother  of  a beautiful  race,  the  Saint 
Cecilia,  whose  delicate  features,  lighted  up  by 
love  and  music,  art  has  rescued  from  the  com- 
mon decay.  There  were  the  members  of  that 
brilliant  society  which  o^ioted,  criticised,  and 
exchanged  repartees,  under  the  rich  peacock- 
hangings  of  Mrs.  Montague.  And  there  the 
ladies  whose  lips,  more  persuasive  than  those 
of  Fox  himself,  had  carried  the  Westminster 
election  against  palace  and  treasury,  shone 
around  Georgiana  Duchess  of  Devonshire. 

The  Serjeants  made  proclamation.  Hast- 
ings advanced  to  the  bar,  and  bent  his  knee. 
The  culprit  was  indeed  not  unworthy  of  that 
great  presence.  He  had  ruled  an  extensive 
and  populous  country,  had  made  laws  and  trea- 
ties, had  sent  forth  armies,  had  set  up  and 
pulled  down  princes.  And  in  his  high  place 
he  had  so  borne  himself,  that  all  had  feared 
him,  that  most  had  loved  him,  and  that  hatred 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS . 


273 

itself  could  deny  him  no  title  to  glory,  except 
virtue.  He  looked  like  a great  man,  and  not 
like  a bad  man.  A person  small  and  emaciated, 
yet  deriving  dignity  from  a carriage  which, 
while  it  indicated  deference  to  the  court,  in- 
dicated also  habitual  self-possession  and  self- 
respect,  a high  and  intellectual  forehead,  a brow 
pensive,  but  not  gloomy,  a mouth  of  inflexible 
decision,  a face  pale  and  worn,  but  serene,  on 
which  was  written,  as  legibly  as  under  the 
picture  in  the  council-chamber  at  Calcutta, 
Mens  aqua  in  arduis ; such  was  the  aspect 
with  which  the  great  Proconsul  presented  him- 
self to  his  judges. 

His  council  accompanied  him,  men  all  of 
whom  were  afterwards  raised  by  their  talents 
and  learning  to  the  highest  posts  in  their  pro- 
fession, the  bold  and  strong-minded  Law, 
afterwards  Chief  Justice  of  the  King’s  Bench; 
the  more  humane  and  eloquent  Dallas,  after- 
wards Chief  Justice  of  the  Common  Pleas  ; 
and  Plomer  whom,  near  twenty  years  later, 
successfully  conducted  in  the  same  high  court 
the  defence  of  Lord  Melville,  and  subsequently 
became  Vice-chancellor  and  Master  of  the 
Rolls. 

But  neither  the  culprit  nor  his  advocates  at- 
tracted so  much  notice  as  the  accusers.  In 
the  midst  of  the  blaze  of  red  drapery,  a space 
had  been  fitted  up  with  green  benches  and 
tables  for  the  Commons.  The  managers,  with 
Burke  at  their  head,  appeared  in  full  dress. 
The  collectors  of  gossip  did  not  fail  to  remark 
that  even  Fox,  generally  so  regardless  of  his 
appearance,  had  paid  to  the  illustrious  tribunal 
the  compliment  of  wearing  a bag  and  sword. 
Pitt  had  refused  to  be  one  of  the  conductors 
of  the  impeachment;  and  his  commanding, 
copious,  and  sonorous  eloquence  was  wanting 
to  that  great  muster  of  various  talents.  Age 
and  blindness  had  unfitted  Lord  North  for  the 
duties  of  a public  prosecutor  ; and  his  friends 
were  left  without  the  help  of  his  excellent 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


27  3 


sense,  his  tact,  and  his  urbanity.  But,  in  spite 
of  the  absence  of  these  two  distinguished  mem- 
bers of  the  Lower  House,  the  box  in  which  the 
managers  stood  contained  an  array  of  speakers 
such  as  perhaps  had  not  appeared  together 
since  the  great  age  of  Athenian  eloquence. 
There  were  Fox  and  Sheridan,  the  English 
Demosthenes  and  the  English  Hyperides. 
There  was  Burke,  ignorant  indeed,  or  negligent 
of  the  art  of  adapting  his  reasonings  and  his 
style  to  the  capacity  and  taste  of  his  hearers, 
but  in  amplitude  of  comprehension  and  rich- 
ness of  imagination  superior  to  every  orator, 
ancient  or  modern.  There,  with  eyes  reveren- 
tially fixed  on  Burke,  appeared  the  finest  gen- 
tleman of  the  age,  his  form  developed  by  every 
manly  exercise,  his  face  beaming  with  intelli- 
gence and  spirit,  the  ingenious,  the  chivalrous, 
the  high-souled  Windham.  Nor,  though  sur- 
rounded by  such  men,  did  the  youngest  man- 
ager pass  unnoticed.  At  an  age  when  most  of 
those  who  distinguish  themselves  in  life  are 
still  contending  for  prizes  and  fellowships  at 
college,  he  had  won  for  himself  a conspicuous 
place  in  pailiament.  No  advantage  of  fortune 
or  connection  was  wanting  that  could  set  off  to 
the  height  his  splendid  talents  and  his  un- 
blemished honor.  At  twenty-three  he  had 
been  thought  worthy  to  be  ranked  with  the 
veteran  statesmen  who  appeared  as  the  dele- 
gates of  the  British  Commons,  at  the  bar  of 
the  British  nobility.  All  who  stood  at  that 
bar,  save  him  alone,  are  gone,  culprit,  advo- 
cates, accusers.  To  the  generation  which  is 
now  in  the  vigor  of  life,  he  is  the  sole  repre- 
sentative of  a great  age  which  has  passed 
away.  But  those  who,  within  the  last  ten  years, 
have  listened  with  delight,  till  the  morning  sun 
shone  on  the  tapestries  of  the  House  of  Lords, 
to  the  lofty  and  animated  eloquence  of  Charles 
Earl  Grey,  are  able  to  form  some  estimate  of 
the  powers  of  a race  of  men  among  whom  he 
was  not  the  foremost. 


274 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  VS. 


The  charges  and  the  answers  of  Hastings 
were  first  read.  The  ceremony  occupied  two 
whole  days,  and  was  rendered  less  tedious  than 
it  would  otherwise  have  been  bv  the  silver  voice 
and  just  emphasis  of  Cowper,  the  Clerk  of  the 
court,  a near  relation  of  the  amiable  poet. 
On  the  third  day  Burke  rose.  Four  sittings 
were  occupied  by  his  opening  speech,  which 
was  intended  to  be  a general  introduction  to 
all  the  charges.  With  an  exuberance  of  thought 
and  a splendor  of  diction  which  more  than 
satisfied  the  highly  raised  expectation  of  the 
audience,  he  described  the  character  and  in- 
stitutions of  the  natives  of  Indi  t.  recounted  the 
circumstances  in  which  the  Asiatic  empire  of 
Britain  had  originated,  and  set  forth  the  con- 
stitution of  the  Company  and  of  the  English 
presidencies.  Having  thus  attempted  to  com- 
municate to  his  hearers  an  idea  of  Eastern 
society,  as  vivid  as  that  which  existed  in  his 
own  mind,  he  proceeded  to  arraign  the  admin- 
istration of  Hastings  as  systematically  con- 
ducted in  defiance  of  morality  and  public  law. 
The  energy  and  pathos  of  the  great  orator  ex- 
torted expressions  of  unwonted  admiration 
from  the  stern  and  hostile  Chancellor,  and,  for 
a moment,  seemed  to  pierce  even  the  resolute 
heart  of  the  defendant.  The  ladies  in  the 
galleries,  unaccustomed  to  such  displays  of 
eloquence,  excited  by  the  solemnity  of  the  oc- 
casion, and  perhaps  not  unwilling  to  display 
their  taste  and  sensibility,  were  in  a state  of 
uncontrollable  emotion.  Handkerchiefs  were 
pulled  out ; smelling  bottles  were  handed 
round ; hysterical  sobs  and  screams  were 
heard  ; and  Mrs.  Sheridan  was  carried  ont  in 
a fit.  At  length  the  orator  concluded.  Rais- 
ing his  voice  till  the  old  arches  of  Irish  oak 
resounded,  “ Therefore,”  said  he,  “ hath  it  with 
all  confidence  been  ordered,  by  the  Commons 
of  Great  Britain,  that  I impeach  Warren  Hast- 
ings of  high  crimes  and  misdemeanors.  I im- 
peach him  in  the  name  of  the  Commons’ 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


275 


House  of  Parliament,  whose  trust  he  has  be- 
trayed. I impeach  him  in  the  name  of  the 
English  nation,  whose  ancient  honor  he  has 
sullied.  I impeach  him  in  the  name  of  the 
people  of  India,  whose  rights  he  has  trodden 
under  foot,  and  whose  country  he  has  turned 
into  a desert.  Lastly,  in  the  name  of  human 
nature  itself,  in  the  name  of  both  sexes,  in  the 
name  of  every  age,  in  the  name  of  every  rank, 
I impeach  the  common  enemy  and  oppressor 
of  all!” 

When  the  deep  murmur  of  various  emotions 
had  subsided,  Mr.  Fox  rose  to  address  the 
Lords  respecting  the  course  of  proceeding  to 
be  followed.  The  wish  of  the  accusers  was 
that  the  Court  would  bring  to  a close  the  inves- 
tigation of  the  first  charge  before  the  second 
was  opened.  The  wish  of  Hastings  and  of  his 
counsel  was  that  the  managers  should  open  all 
the  charges,  and  produce  all  the  evidence  for 
the  prosecution,  before  the  defence  began.  The 
Lords  retired  to  their  own  House  to  consider 
the  question.  The  Chancellor  took  the  side  of 
Hastings.  Lord  Loughborough,  who  was  now 
in  opposition,  supported  the  demand  of  the 
managers.  The  division  showed  which  way 
the  inclination  of  the  tribunal  leaned.  A 
majority  of  near  three  to  one  decided  in  favor 
of  the  course  for  which  Hastings  contended. 

When  the  Court  sat  again,  Mr.  Fox,  assisted 
by  Mr.  Gray,  opened  the  charge  respecting 
Cheyte  Sing,  an<^  several  days  were  spent  in 
reading  papers  and  hearing  witnesses.  The 
next  article  was  that  relating  to  the  Princesses 
of  Oude.  The  conduct  of  this  part  of  the  case 
was  intrusted  to  Sheridan.  The  curiosity  of 
the  public  to  hear  him  was  unbounded.  His 
sparkling  and  highly  finished  declamation  lasted 
two  days  ; but  the  Hall  was  crowded  to  suffoca- 
tion during  the  whole  time.  It  was  said  that 
fifty  guineas  had  been  paid  for  a single  ticket. 
Sheridan,  when  he  concluded,  contrived,  with 
a knowledge  of  stage  effect  which  his  father 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


276 

might  have  envied,  to  sink  back,  as  if  exhausted, 
into  the  arms  of  Burke,  who  hugged  him  with 
the  energy  of  generous  admiration. 

June  was  now  far  advanced.  The  session 
could  not  last  much  longer  ; and  the  progress 
which  had  been  made  in  the  impeachment  was 
not  very  satisfactory.  There  were  twenty 
charges.  On  two  only  of  these  had  even  the 
case  for  the  prosecution  been  heard  ; and  it 
was  now  a year  since  Hastings  had  been  ad- 
mitted to  bail. 

The  interest  taken  by  the  public  in  the  trial 
was  great  when  the  Court  began  to  sit,  and 
rose  to  the  height  when  Sheridan  spoke  on  the 
charge  relating  to  the  Begums.  From  that 
time  the  excitement  went  down  fast.  The  spec- 
tacle had  lost  the  attraction  of  novelty.  The 
great  displays  of  rhetoric  were  over.  What 
was  behind  was  not  of  a nature  to  entice  men 
of  letters  from  their  books  in  the  morning,  or 
to  tempt  ladies  who  had  left  the  masquerade  at 
two  to  be  out  of  bed  before  eight.  There  re- 
mained examinations  and  cross-examinations. 
There  remained  statements  of  accounts.  There 
remained  the  reading  of  papers,  filled  with 
words  unintelligible  to  English  ears,  with  lacs 
and  crores,  zemindars  andaumils,  sunnuds  and 
perwannahs,  jaghires  and  nuzzurs.  There  re- 
mained bickerings,  not  always  carried  on  with 
the  best  taste  or  with  the  best  temper,  between 
the  managers  of  the  impeachment  and  the 
counsel  for  the  defence,  particularly  between 
Mr.  Burke  and  Mr.  Law.  There  remained  the 
endless  marches  and  countermarches  of  the 
Peers  between  their  House  and  the  Hall  ; for  as 
often  as  a point  of  law  was  to  be  discussed, 
their  Lordships  retired  to  discuss  it  apart ; and 
the  consequence  was,  as  a Peer  wittily  said, 
that  the  judges  walked  and  the  trial  stood  still. 

It  is  to  be  added  that,  in  the  spring  of  1788, 
when  the  trial  commenced,  no  important  ques- 
tion, either  of  domestic  or  foreign  policy, 
occupied  the  public  mind.  The  proceeding  in 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


277 


Westminster  Hall,  therefore,  naturally  attracted 
most  of  the  attention  of  Parliament  and  of  the 
countay.  It  was  the  one  great  event  of  that 
season.  But  in  the  following  year  the  King’s 
illness,  the  debates  on  the  Regency,  the  ex- 
pectation of  a change  of  ministry,  completely 
diverted  public  attention  from  Indian  affairs; 
and  within  a fortnight  after  George  the  Third 
had  returned  thanks  is  St.  Paul’s  for  his  re- 
covery, the  States-General  of  France  met  at 
Versailles.  In  the  midst  of  the  agitation  pro- 
duced by  these  events,  the  impeachment  was 
for  a time  almost  forgotten. 

The  trial  in  the  Hall  went  on  languidly.  In 
the  session  of  1788,  when  the  proceedings 
had  the  interest  of  novelty,  and  when  the  Peers 
had  little  other  business  before  them,  only 
thirty-five  davs  were  given  to  the  impeachment. 
In  1789,  the  Regency  Bill  occupied  the  Upper 
House  till  the  session  was  far  advanced. 
When  the  King  recovered  the  circuits  were 
beginning.  The  judges  left  town  ; the  Lords 
waited  for  the  return  of  the  oracles  of  jurispru- 
dence ; and  the  consequence  was  that  during 
the  whole  year  only  seventeen  days  were  given 
to  the  case  of  Hastings.  It  was  clear  that  the 
matter  would  be  protracted  to  a length  unpre- 
cedented in  the  annals  of  criminal  law. 

In  truth,  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that 
impeachment,  though  it  is  a fine  ceremony,  and 
though  it  may  have  been  useful  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  is  not  a proceeding  from  which 
much  good  can  now  be  expected.  Whatever 
confidence  may  be  placed  in  the  decision  of 
the  Peers  on  an  appeal  arising  out  of  ordinary 
litigation  it  is  certain  that  no  man  has  the  least 
confidence  in  their  impartiality,  when  a great 
public  functionary,  charged  with  a great  state 
crime,  is  brought  to  their  bar.  They  are  all 
politicians.  There  is  hardly  one  among  them 
whose  vote  on  an  impeachment  may  not  be 
confidently  predicted  before  a wntness  has  been 
examined ; and,  even  if  it  were  possible  to  rely 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


278 

on  their  justice,  they  would  still  be  quite  unfit 
to  try  such  a cause  as  that  of  Hastings.  They 
sit  only  during  half  the  year.  They  have  to 
transact  much  legislative  and  much  judicial 
business.  The  law-lords,  whose  advice  is  re- 
quired to  guide  the  unlearned  majority,  are 
employed  daily  in  administering  justice  else- 
where. It  is  impossible,  therefore,  that  during 
a busy  session,  the  Upper  House  should  give 
more  than  a few  days  to  an  impeachment.  To 
expect  that  their  Lordships  would  give  up 
partridge-shooting,  in  order  to  bring  the 
greatest  delinquent  to  speedy  justice,  or  to  re- 
lieve accused  innocence  by  speedy  acquittal, 
would  be  unreasonable  indeed.  A well  con- 
stituted tribunal,  sitting  regularly  six  days  in 
the  week,  and  nine  hours  in  the  day,  would 
h^jve  brought  the  trial  of  Hastings  to  a close 
in  less  than  three  months.  The  Lords  had  not 
finished  their  work  in  seven  years. 

The  result  ceased  to  be  matter  of  doubt,  from 
the  time  when  the  Lords  resolved  that  they 
would  be  guided  by  the  rules  of  evidence  which 
are  received  in  the  inferior  courts  of  the  realm. 
Those  rules,  it  is  well  known,  exclude  much 
information  which  would  be  quite  sufficient  to 
determine  the  conduct  of  any  reasonable  man, 
in  the  most  important  transactions  of  private 
life.  These  rules,  at  every  assizes,  save  scores 
of  culprits  whom  judges,  jury,  and  spectators, 
firmly  believe  to  be  guilty.  But  when  those 
rules  were  rigidly  applied  to  offences  committed 
many  years  before,  at  the  distance  of  many 
thousands  of  miles,  conviction  was,  of  course, 
out  of  the  question.  We  do  not  blame  the  ac- 
cused and  his  counsel  for  availing  themselves 
of  every  legal  advantage  in  order  to  obtain  an 
acquittal.  But  it  is  clear  that  an  acquittal  so 
obtained  cannot  be  pleaded  in  bar  of  the  judg- 
ment of  history. 

Several  attempts  were  made  by  the  friends 
of  Hastings  to  put  a stop  to  the  trial.  In  1789 
they  proposed  a vote  of  censure  upon  Burke, 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


279 


for  some  violent  language  which  he  had  used 
respecting  the  death  of  Nuncomar  and  the 
connection  between  Hastings  and  Impey. 
Burke  was  then  unpopular  in  the  last  degree 
both  with  the  House  and  with  the  country. 
The  asperity  and  indecency  of  some  expres- 
sions which  he  had  used  during  the  debates  on 
the  Regency  had  annoyed  even  his  warmest 
friends.  The  vote  of  censure  was  carried  ; and 
those  who  had  moved  it  hoped  that  the  mana- 
gers would  resign  in  disgust.  Burke  was  deep- 
ly hurt.  But  his  zeal  for  what  he  considered 
as  the  cause  of  justice  and  mercy  triumphed 
over  his  personal  feeiings.  He  received  the 
censure  of  the  House  with  dignity  and  meek- 
ness, and  declared  that  no  personal  mortifica- 
tion or  humiliation  should  induce  him  to  flinch 
from  the  sacred  duty  which  he  had  undertaken. 

In  the  following  year  the  Parliament  was 
dissolved;  and  the  friends  of  Hastings  enter- 
tained a hope  that  the  new  House  of  Commons 
might  not  be  disposed  to  go  on  with  the  im- 
peachment. They  began  by  maintaining  that 
the  whole  proceeding  was  terminated  by  the 
dissolution.  Defeated  on  this  point,  they  made 
a direct  motion  that  the  impeachment  should 
be  dropped ; but  they  were  defeated  by  the 
combined  forces  of  the  Government  and  the 
Opposition.  It  was,  however,  resolved  that, 
for  the  sake  of  expedition,  many  of  the  articles 
should  be  withdrawn.  In  truth,  had  not  some 
such  measure  been  adopted,  the  trial  would 
have  lasted  till  the  defendant  was  in  his  grave. 

At  length,  in  the  spring  of  1795,  the  decision 
was  pronounced,  near  eight  years  after  Hast- 
ings had  been  brought  by  the  Serjeant-at-arms 
of  the  Commons  to  the  bar  of  the  Lords.  On 
the  last  day  of  this  great  procedure  the  public 
curiosity,  long  suspended,  seemed  to  be  reviv- 
ed. Anxiety  about  the  judgment  there  could  be 
none;  for  it  had  been  fully  ascertained  that 
there  was  a great  majority  for  the  defendant. 
Nevertheless  many  wished  to  see  the  pageant, 


280 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


and  the  Hall  was  as  much  crowded  as  on  the 
first  day.  But  those  who,  having  been  present 
on  the  first  day,  now  bore  a part  in  the  pro 
ceedings  of  the  last,  were  few  ; and  most  of 
those  few  were  altered  men. 

As  Hastings  himself  said,  the  arraignment 
had  taken  place  before  one  generation,  and 
the  judgment  was  pronounced  by  another. 
The  spectator  could  not  look  at  the  woolsack, 
or  at  the  red  benches  of  the  Peers,  or  at  the 
green  benches  of  the  Commons,  without  seeing 
something  that  reminded  him  of  the  instability 
of  all  human  things,  of  the  instability  of  power 
and  fame  and  life,  of  the  more  lamentable  in- 
stability of  friendship.  The  great  seal  was 
borne  before  Lord  Loughborough,  who,  when 
the  trial  commenced,  was  a fierce  opponent  of 
Mr.  Pitt’s  government,  and  who  was  now  a 
member  of  that  government,  while  Thurlow, 
who  presided  in  the  Court  when  it  first  sat, 
estranged  from  all  his  old  allies,  sat  scowling 
among  the  junior  barons.  Of  about  a hundred 
and  sixty  nobles  who  walked  in  the  procession  on 
the  first  day,  sixty  had  been  laid  in  their  family 
vaults.  Still  more  affecting  must  have  been 
the  sight  of  the  managers’  box.  What  had 
become  of  that  fair  fellowship,  so  closely  bound 
together  by  public  and  private  ties,  so  resplen- 
dent with  every  talent  and  accomplishment  ? 
It  had  been  scattered  by  calamities  more  bitter 
than  the  bitterness  of  death.  The  great  chiefs 
were  still  living,  and  still  in  the  full  vigor  of 
their  genius.  But  their  friendship  was  at  an 
end.  It  had  been  violently  and  publicly  dis- 
solved, with  tears  and  stormy  reproaches.  If 
those  men,  once  so  dear  to  each  other,  were 
now  compelled  to  meet  for  the  purpose  of 
managing  the  impeachment,  they  met  as  stran- 
gers whom  public  business  had  brought  to- 
gether, and  behaved  to  each  other  with  cold 
and  distant  civility.  Burke  had  in  his  vortex 
whirled  away  Windham.  Fox  had  been  fol- 
lowed by  Sheridan  and  Grey. 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


281 


Only  twenty-nine  Peers  voted.  Of  these 
only  six  found  Hastings  guilty  on  the  charges 
relating  to  Cheyte  Sing  and  to  the  Begums. 
On  other  charges,  the  majority  in  his  favor  was 
still  greater.  On  some  he  was  unanimously 
absolved.  He  was  then  called  to  the  bar,  was 
informed  from  the  woolsack  that  the  Lords 
had  acquitted  him,  and  was  solemnly  discharged. 
He  bowed  respectfully  and  retired. 

We  have  said  that  the  decision  had  been 
fully  expected.  It  was  also  generally  approved. 
At  the  commencement  of  the  trial  there  had 
been  a strong  and  indeed  unreasonable  feeling 
against  Hastings.  At  the  close  of  the  trial 
there  was  a feeling  equally  strong  and  equally 
unreasonable  in  his  favor.  One  cause  of  the 
change  was,  no  doubt,  what  is  commonly  called 
the  fickleness  of  the  multitude,  but  what  seems 
to  us  to  be  merely  the  general  law  of  human 
nature.  Both  in  individuals  and  in  masses  vio- 
lent excitement  is  always  followed  by  remission 
and  often  by  reaction.  We  are  all  inclined  to 
depreciate  whatever  we  have  overpraised,  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  show  undue  indulgence 
where  we  have  shown  undue  rigor.  It  was 
thus  in  the  case  of  Hastings.  The  length  of 
his  trial,  moreover,  made  him  an  object  of 
compassion.  It  was  thought,  and  not  without 
reason,  that,  even  if  he  was  guilty,  he  was  still 
an  ill-used  man,  and  that  an  impeachment  of 
eight  years  was  more  than  a sufficient  punish- 
ment. It  was  also  felt  that,  though,  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  criminal  law,  a defendant 
is  not  allowed  to  set  off  his  good  actions  against 
his  crimes,  a great  political  cause  should  be 
tried  on  different  principles,  and  that  a man 
who  had  governed  an  empire  during  thirteen 
years  might  have  done  some  very  reprehensible 
things,  and  yet  might  be  on  the  whole  deserving 
of  rewards  and  honors  rather  than  of  fine  and 
imprisonment.  The  press,  an  instrument  neg- 
lected by  the  prosecutors,  was  used  by  Hast- 
ings and  his  friends  with  great  effect.  Every 


2S2 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


ship,  too,  that  arrived  from  Madras  or  Bengal, 
brought  a cuddy  full  of  his  admirers.  Every 
gentleman  from  India  spoke  of  the  late  Gov- 
ernor-General as  having  deserved  better,  and 
having  been  treated  worse,  than  any  man  living. 
The  effect  of  this  testimony  unanimously  given 
by  all  persons  who  knew  the  East  was  nat- 
urally very  great.  Retired  members  of  the 
Indian  services,  civil  and  military,  were  settled 
in  all  corners  of  the  kingdom.  Each  of  them 
was,  of  course,  in  his  own  little  circle,  regarded 
as  an  oracle  on  an  Indian  question,  and  they 
were,  with  scarcely  one  exception,  the  zealous 
advocates  of  Hastings.  It  is  to  be  added,  that 
the  numerous  addresses  to  the  late  Governor- 
General,  which  his  friends  in  Bengal  obtained 
from  the  natives  and  transmitted  to  England, 
made  a considerable  impression.  To  these 
addresses  we  attach  little  or  no  importance. 
That  Hastings  was  beloved  by  the  people 
whom  he  governed  is  true  ; but  the  eulogies  of 
pundits,  zemindars,  Mahommedan  doctors,  do 
not  prove  it  to  be  true.  For  an  English  col- 
lector or  judge  would  have  found  it  easy  to  in- 
duce any  native  who  could  write  to  sign  a 
panegyric  on  the  most  odious  ruler  that  ever 
was  in  India.  It  was  said  that  at  Benares, 
the  very  place  at  which  the  acts  set  forth  in 
the  first  article  of  impeachment  had  been 
committed,  the  natives  had  erected  a temple 
to  Hastings,  and  this  story  excited  a strong 
sensation  in  England.  Burke’s  observations  on 
the  apotheosis  were  admirable.  He  saw  no 
reason  for  astonishment,  he  said,  in  the  inci- 
dent which  had  been  represented  as  so  striking. 
He  knew  something  of  the  mythology  of  the 
Brahmins.  He  knew  that  as  they  worshipped 
some  gods  from  love,  so  they  worshipped  others 
from  fear.  He  knew  that  they  erected  shrines, 
not  only  to  the  benignant  deities  of  light  and 
plenty,  but  also  the  fiends  who  preside  over 
small-pox  and  murder  ; nor  did  he  at  all  dis- 
pute the  claim  of  Mr.  Hastings  to  be  admitted 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


283 

into  such  a Pantheon.  This  reply  has  always 
struck  us  as  one  of  the  finest  that  was  ever 
made  in  Parliament.  It  is  a grave  and  forci- 
ble argument,  decorated  by  the  most  brilliant 
wit  and  fancy. 

Hastings  was,  however,  safe.  But  in  every- 
thing except  character,  he  would  have  been  far 
better  off  if,  when  first  impeached,  he  had  at 
once  pleaded  guilty,  and  paid  a fine  of  fifty 
thousand  pounds.  He  was  a ruined  man.  The 
legal  expenses  of  his  defence  had  been  enor- 
mous. The  expenses  which  did  not  appear  in 
his  attorney’s  bill  were  perhaps  larger  still. 
Great  sums  had  been  paid  to  Major  Scott. 
Great  sums  had  been  laid  out  in  bribing  news- 
papers, rewarding  pamphleteers,  aad  circulat- 
ing tracts.  Burke,  so  early  as  1790,  declared 
in  the  House  of  Commons  that  twenty  thousand 
pounds  had  been  employed  in  corrupting  the 
press.  It  is  certain  that  no  controversial 
weapon,  from  the  gravest  reason  to  the  coarsest 
ribaldry,  was  left  unemployed.  Logan  de- 
fended the  accused  Governor  with  great  ability 
in  prose.  For  the  lovers  of  verse,  the  speeches 
of  the  managers  were  burlesqued  in  Simpkin’s 
letters.  It  is,  we  are  afraid,  indisputable  that 
Hastings  stooped  so  low  as  to  court  the  aid  of 
that  malignant  and  filthy  baboon  John  Williams, 
who  called  himself  Anthony  Pasquin.  It  was 
necessary  to  subsidize  such  allies  largely.  The 
private  hoards  of  Mrs.  Hastings  had  disap- 
peared. It  is  said  that  the  banker  to  whom 
they  had  been  intrusted  had  failed.  Still  if 
Hastings  had  practised  strict  economy,  he 
would,  after  ail  his  losses,  have  had  a moder- 
ate competence  ; but  in  the  management  of 
his  private  affairs  he  was  imprudent.  The 
dearest  wish  of  his  heart  had  always  been  to 
regain  Daylesford.  At  length,  in  the  very 
year  in  which  his  trial  commenced,  the  wish 
was  accomplished  ; and  the  domain,  alienated 
more  than  seventy  years  before,  returned  to 
the  descendant  of  its  old  lords.  But  the  manor 


284  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  YS. 

house  was  a ruin  ; and  the  grounds  around  it 
had,  during  many  years,  been  utterly  neglect- 
ed. Hastings  proceeded  to  build,  to  plant,  to 
form  a sheet  of  water,  to  excavate  a grotto ; 
and,  before  he  was  dismissed  from  the  bar  of 
the  House  of  Lords,  he  had  expended  more 
than  forty  thousand  pounds  in  adorning  his 
seat. 

The  general  feeling  both  of  the  Directors 
and  of  the  proprietors  of  the  East  India  Com- 
pany was  that  he  had  great  claims  on  them, 
that  his  services  to  them  had  been  eminent, 
and  that  his  misfortunes  had  been  the  effect  of 
his  zeal  for  their  interest.  His  friends  in 
Leadenhall  Street  proposed  to  reimburse  him 
the  costs  of  his  trial,  and  to  settle  on  him  an 
annuity  of  five  thousand  pounds  a year.  But 
the  consent  of  the  Board  of  Control  was  nec- 
essary; and  at  the  head  of  the  Board  of  Con- 
trol was  Mr.  Dundas,  who  had  himself  been  a 
party  to  the  impeachment,  who  had,  on  that 
account,  been  reviled  with  great  bitterness  by 
the  adherents  of  Hastings,  and  who,  therefore, 
was  not  in  a very  complying  mood.  He  re- 
fused to  consent  to  what  the  Directors  sug- 
gested. The  Directors  remonstrated.  A long 
controversy  followed.  Hastings,  in  the  mean- 
time, was  reduced  to  such  distress,  that  he 
could  hardly  pay  his  weekly  bills.  At  length 
a compromise  was  made.  An  annuity  for  life 
of  four  thousand  pounds  was  settled  on  Hast- 
ings ; and  in  order  to  enable  him  to  meet 
pressing  demands,  he  was  to  receive  ten  years’ 
annuity  in  advance.  The  Company  was  also 
permitted  to  lend  him  fifty  thousand  pounds,  to 
be  repaid  by  instalments  without  interest.  The 
relief,  though  given  in  the  most  absurd  manner, 
was  sufficient  to  enable  the  retired  Governor  to 
live  in  comfort,  and  even  in  luxury,  if  he  had 
been  a skilful  manager.  But  he  was  careless 
and  profuse,  and  was  more  than  once  under 
the  necessity  of  applying  to  the  Company  for 
assistance,  which  was  liberally  given. 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


285 

He  had  security  and  affluence,  but  not  the 
power  and  dignity  which,  when  he  landed  from 
India,  he  had  reason  to  expect.  He  had  then 
looked  forward  to  a coronet,  a red  ribbon,  a 
seat  at  the  Council  Board,  an  office  at  White- 
hall. He  was  then  only  fifty-two,  and  might 
hope  for  many  years  of  bodily  and  men- 
tal vigor.  The  case  was  widely  different  when 
he  left  the  bar  of  the  Lords.  He  was  now  too 
old  a man  to  turn  his  mind  to  a new  class  of 
studies  and  duties.  He  had  no  chance  of  re- 
ceiving any  mark  of  royal  favor  while  Mr.  Pitt 
remained  in  power  ; and,  when  Mr.  Pitt  re- 
tired, Hastings  was  approaching  his  seventieth 
year. 

Once,  and  only  once,  after  his  acquittal,  he 
interfered  in  politics ; and  that  interference 
was  not  much  to  his  honor.  In  1804  he  exert- 
ed himself  strenuously  to  prevent  Mr.  Ad- 
dington, against  whom  Fox  and  Pitt  had  com- 
bined, from  resigning  the  Treasury.  It  is  dif- 
ficult to  believe  that  a man  so  able  and  ener- 
getic as  Hastings  can  have  thought  that,  when 
Bonaparte  was  at  Boulogne  with  a great  army 
the  defence  of  our  island  could  safely  be  in- 
trusted to  a ministry  which  did  not  contain  a 
single  person  whom  flattery  could  describe  as  a 
great  statesman.  It  is  also  certain  that,  on  the 
important  question  which  had  raised  Mr.  Ad- 
dington to  power,  and  on  which  he  differed  from 
both  Fox  and  Pitt,  Hastings,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  agreed  with  Fox  and  Pitt,  and 
was  decidedly  opposed  to  Addington.  Religi- 
ous intolerance  has  never  been  the  vice  of  the 
Indian  service,  and  certainly  was  not  the  vice 
of  Hastings.  But  Mr.  Addington  had  treated 
him  with  marked  favor.  Fox  had  peen  a prin- 
cipal manager  of  the  impeachment.  To  Pitt  it 
was  owing  that  there  had  been  an  impeach- 
ment; and  Hastings,  we  fear,  was  on  this  oc- 
casion guided  by  personal  considerations, 
rather  than  by  a regard  to  the  public  interest. 

The  last  twenty-four  years  of  his  life  were 


286 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


chiefly  passed  at  Daylesford.  He. amused  him- 
self with  embellishing  his  grounds,  riding  fine 
Arab  horses,  fattening  prize  cattle,  and  trying 
to  rear  Indian  animals  and  vegetables  in  Eng- 
land. He  sent  for  seeds  of  a very  fine  custard 
apple,  from  the  garden  of  what  had  once  been  his 
own  villa,  among  the  green  hedgerows  of  Alii- 
pore.  He  tried  also  to  neutralize  in  Worcester- 
shire the  delicious  leechee,  almost  the  only 
fruit  of  Bengal  which  deserves  to  be  regretted 
even  amidst  the  plenty  of  Covent  Garden.  The 
Mogul  emperors",  in  the  time  of  their  greatness 
had  in  vain  attempted  to  introduce  into  Hindos- 
tan  the  goat  of  the  table-land  of  Thibet,  whose 
down  supplies  the  looms  of  Cashmere  with  the 
materials  of  the  finest  shawls.  Hastings  tried 
with  no  better  fortune,  to  rear  a breed  at  Day- 
lesford ; nor  does  he  seem  to  have  succeeded 
better  with  the  cattle  of  Bootan,  whose  tails 
are  in  high  esteem  as  the  best  fans  for  brush- 
ing away  the  musquitoes. 

Literature  divided  his  attention  with  his  con- 
servatories and  his  menagerie.  He  had  always 
loved  books,  and  they  were  now  necessary  to 
him.  Though  not  a poet,  in  any  high  sense  of 
the  word,  he  wrote  neat  and  polished  lines  with 
great  facility,  and  was  fond  of  exercising  this 
talent.  Indeed,  if  we  must  speak  out,  he  seems 
to  have  been  more  of  a Trissotin  than  was  to 
be  expected  from  the  powers  of  his  mind,  and 
from  the  great  part  which  he  had  played  in  life. 
We  are  assured  in  these  Memoirs  that  the  first 
thing  which  he  did  in  the  morning  was  to  write 
a copy  of  verses.  When  the  family  and  guests 
assembled,  the  poem  made  its  appearance  as 
regularly  as  the  eggs  and  rolls  ; and  Mr.  Gleig 
requires  us  to  believe  that,  if  from  any  accident 
Hastings  came  to  the  breakfast-table  without 
one  of  his  charming  performances  in  his  hand, 
the  omission  was  felt  by  all  as  a grievous  dis- 
appointment. Tastes  differ  widely.  For  our- 
selves, we  must  say  that,  however  good  the 
breakfasts  at  Daylesford  may  have  been, — and 


WARREN  HASTINGS. 


287 

we  are  assured  that  the  tea  was  of  the  most 
aromatic  flavor,  and  that  neither  tongue  nor 
venison-pasty  was  wanting, — we  should  have 
thought  the  reckoning  high  if  we  had  been 
forced  to  earn  our  repast  by  listening  every 
day  to  a new  madrigal  or  sonnet  composed  by 
our  host.  We  are  glad,  however,  that  Mr. 
Gleig  has  preserved  this  little  feature  of  char- 
acter, though  we  think  it  by  no  means  a beauty. 
It  is  good  to  be  often  reminded  of  the  inconsist- 
ency of  human  nature,  and  to  learn  to  look 
without  wonder  or  disgust  on  the  weaknesses 
which  are  found  in  the  strongest  minds. 
Dionysius  in  old  times,  Frederic  in  the  last 
century,  with  capacity  and  vigor  equal  to  the 
conduct  of  the  greatest  affairs,  united  all  the 
little  vanities  and  affectations  of  provincial 
blue-stockings.  These  great  examples  may 
console  the  admirers  of  Hastings  for  the  afflic- 
tion of  seeing  him  reduced  to  the  level  of  the 
Hayleys  and  Sewards. 

When  Hastings  had  passed  many  years  in 
retirement,  and  had  long  outlived  the  common 
age  of  men,  he  again  became  for  a short  time 
an  object  of  general  attention.  In  1813  the 
charter  of  the  East  India  Companv  was  re- 
newed ; and  much  discussion  about  Indian 
affairs  took  place  in  Parliament.  It  was  de- 
termined to  examine  witnesses  at  the  bar  of 
the  Commons;  and  Hastings  was  ordered  to 
attend.  He  had  appeared  at  that  bar  once 
before.  It  was  when  he  read  his  answer  to 
charges  which  Burke  had  laid  on  the  table. 
Since  that  time  twenty-seven  years  had  elapsed  ; 
public  feeling  had  undergone  a complete 
change  ; the  nation  had  now  forgotten  his 
faults,  and  remembered  only  his  services. 
The  reappearance,  too,  of  a man  who  had 
been  among  the  most  distinguished  of  a gen- 
eration that  had  passed  away,  and  now  belong- 
ed to  history,  and  who  seemed  to  have  risen 
from  the  dead,  could  not  but  produce  a solemn 
and  pathetic  effect,  The  Commons  received 


288 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


him  with  acclamations,  ordered  a chair  to  be 
set  for  him,  and,  when  he  retired,  rose  and 
uncovered.  There  were,  indeed,  a few  who 
did  not  sympathize  with  the  general  feeling. 
One  or  two  of  the  managers  of  the  impeach- 
ment were  present.  They  sate  in  the  same 
seats  which  they  had  occupied  when  they  had 
been  thanked  for  the  services  which  they  had 
rendered  in  Westminister  Hall : for,  by  the 
courtesy  of  the  House,  a member  who  has 
been  thanked  in  his  place  is  considered  as 
having  a right  always  to  occupy  that  place. 
These  gentlemen  were  not  disposed  to  admit 
that  they  had  employed  several  of  the  best 
years  of  their  lives  in  persecuting  an  innocent 
man.  They  accordingly  kept  their  seats,  and 
pulled  their  hats  over  their  brows  ; but  the 
exceptions  only  made  the  prevailing  enthusiasm 
more  remarkable.  The  Lords  received  the 
old  man  with  similar  tokens  of  respect.  The 
University  of  Oxford  conferred  on  him  the  de- 
gree of  Doctor  of  Laws  ; and,  in  the  Sheldo- 
nian  Theatre,  the  undergraduates  welcomed 
him  with  tumultuous  cheering. 

These  marks  of  public  esteem  were  soon 
followed  by  marks  of  royal  favor.  Hastings 
was  sworn  of  the  Privy  Council,  and  was  ad- 
mitted to  a long  private  audience  of  the  Prince 
Regent,  who  treated  him  very  graciously. 
When  the  Emperor  of  Russia  and  the  King  of 
Prussia  visited  England,  Hastings  appeared 
in  their  train  both  at  Oxford  and  in  the  Guild- 
hall of  London,  and,  though  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  princes  and  great  warriors,  was  every- 
where received  with  marks  of  respect  and  ad- 
miration. He  was  presented  by  the  Prince 
Regent  both  to  Alexander  and  to  Frederic 
William  ; and  his  Royal  Highness  went  so  far 
as  to  declare  in  public  that  honors  far  higher 
than  a seat  in  the  Privy  Council  were  due, 
and  would  soon  be  paid,  to  the  man  who  had 
saved  the  British  dominions  in  Asia.  Hast- 
ings now  confidently  expected  a peerage  ; but, 


WARREN  HASTINGS.  289 

from  some  unexplained  cause,  he  was  again 
disappointed. 

He  lived  about  four  years  longer,  in  the  en- 
joyment of  good  spitits,  of  faculties  not  im- 
paired to  any  painful  or  degrading  extent,  and 
of  health  such  as  is  rarely  enjoyed  by  those 
who  attain  such  an  age.  At  length,  on  the 
twenty-second  of  August,  1818,  in  the  eighty- 
sixth  year  of  his  age,  he  met  death  with  the 
same  tranquil  and  decorous  fortitude  which  he 
had  opposed  to  all  the  trials  of  his  various  and 
eventful  life. 

With  all  his  faults, — and  they  were  neither 
few  nor  small, — cnly  one  cemetery  was  worthy 
to  contain  his  remains.  In  that  temple  of 
silence  and  reconciliation  where  the  enmities 
of  twenty  generations  lie  buried,  in  the  Great 
Abbey  which  has  during  many  ages  afforded  a 
quiet  resting-place  to  those  whose  minds  and 
bodies  have  been  shattered  by  the  contentions 
of  the  Great  Hall,  the  dust  of  the  illustrious 
accused  should  have  mingled  with  the  dust  of 
the  illustrious  accusers.  This  was  not  to  be. 
Yet  the  place  of  interment  was  not  ill-chosen. 
Behind  the  chancel  of  the  parish  church  of 
Daylesford,  in  earth  which  already  held  the 
bones  of  many  chiefs  of  the  house  of  Hastings, 
was  laid  the  coffin  of  the  greatest  man  who 
has  ever  borne  that  ancient  and  widely  ex- 
tended name.  On  that  very  spot,  probably, 
fourscore  years  before,  the  little  Warren, 
meanlv  clad  and  scantily  fed,  and  played  with 
the  children  of  ploughmen.  Even  then  his 
young  mind  had  revolved  plans  which  might 
be  called  romantic.  Yet,  however  romantic, 
it  is  not  likely  that  they  had  been  so  strange 
as  the  truth.  Not  only  had  the  poor  orphan 
retrieved  the  fallen  fortunes  of  his  line.  Not 
only  had  he  repurchased  the  old  lands,  and 
rebuilt  the  old  dwelling.  He  had  preserved 
and  extended  an  empire.  He  had  founded  a 
polity.  He  had  administered  government  and 
war  with  more  than  the  capacity  of  Richelieu. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


290 

He  had  patronized  learning  with  the  judicious 
liberality  of  Cosmo.  He  had  been  attacked 
by  the  most  formidable  combination  of  enemies 
that  ever  sought  the  destruction  of  a single 
victim  ; and  over  that  combination,  after  a 
struggle  of  ten  years,  he  had  triumphed.  He 
had  at  length  gone  down  to  his  grave  in  the 
fulness  of  age,  in  peace,  after  so  many  troubles, 
in  honor,  after  so  much  obloquy. 

Those  who  look  on  his  character  without 
favor  or  malevolence  will  pronounce  that,  in 
the  two  great  elements  of  all  social  virtue,  in 
respect  for  the  rights  of  others,  and  in  sym- 
pathy for  the  sufferings  of  others,  he  was  de- 
ficient. His  principals  were  somewhat  lax. 
His  heart  was  somewhat  hard.  But  though 
we  .cannot  with  truth  describe  him  either  as  a 
righteous  or  as  a merciful  ruler,  we  cannot  re- 
gard without  admiration  the  amplitude  and 
fertility  of  his  intellect,  his  rare  talents  for  com- 
mand, for  administration,  and  for  controversy, 
his  dauntless  courage,  his  honorable  poverty, 
his  fervent  zeal  for  the  interests  of  the  state,  his 
noble  equanimity,  tried  by  both  extremes  of 
fortune,  and  never  disturbed  by  either. 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


(Encyclopedia  Britannica,  January , l8jg.) 


William  Pitt,  the  second  son  of  William 
Pitt,  Earl  of  Chatham,  and  of  Lady  Hester 
Grenville,  daughter  of  Hester,  Countess 
Temple,  was  born  on  the  28th  of  May,  1759. 
The  child  inherited  a name  which,  at  the  time 
of  his  birth,  was  the  most  illustrious  in  the 
civilized  world,  and  was  pronounced  by  every 
Englishman  with  pride,  and  by  every  enemy  of 
England  with  mingled  admiration  and  terror. 
During  the  first  year  of  his  life,  every  month 
had  its  illuminations  and  bonfires,  and  every 
wind  brought  some  messenger  charged  with 
joyful  tidings  and  hostile  standards.  In  West- 
phalia the  English  infantry  won  a great  battle 
which  arrested  the  armies  of  Louis  the  Fifteenth 
in  the  midst  of  a career  of  conquest ; Boscawen 
defeated  one  French  fleet  on  the  coast  of  Port- 
ugal ; Hawke  put  to  flight  another  in  the  Bay 
of  Biscay  ; Johnson  took  Niagara  ; Amherst  took 
Ticonderoga  ; Wolfe  died  by  the  most  enviable 
of  deaths  under  the  walls  of  Quebec  ; Clive 
destroyed  a Dutch  armament  in  the  Hooghly, 
and  established  the  English  supremacy  in  Ben- 
gal ; Coote  routed  Lally  at  Wandewash,  and 
established  the  English  supremacy  in  the  Car- 
natic. The  nation,  while  loudly  applauding  the 
successful  warriors,  considered  them  all,  on  sea 
and  on  land,  in  Europe,  in  America,  and  in 
Asia,  merely  as  instruments  which  received 
their  direction  from  one  superor  mind.  It  was 


292 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


the  great  William  Pitt,  the  great  commoner, 
who  had  vanquished  French  marshals  in  Ger- 
many, and  French  admirals  on  the  Atlantic  ; 
who  had  conquered  for  his  country  one  great 
empire  on  the  frozen  shores  of  Ontario,  and 
another  under  the  tropical  sun  near  the  mouths 
of  the  Ganges.  It  was  not  in  the  nature  of 
things  that  popularity  such  as  he  at  this  time 
enjoyed  should  be  permanent.  That  popularity 
had  lost  its  gloss  before  his  children  were  old 
enough  to  understand  that  their  father  was  a 
great  man.  He  was  at  length  placed  in  situa- 
tions in  which  neither  his  talents  for  adminis- 
tration nor  his  talents  for  debate  appeared  to 
the  best  advantage.  The  energy  and  decision 
which  had  eminently  fitted  him  for  the  direction 
of  war  were  not  needed  in  time  of  peace.  The 
lofty  and  spirit-stirring  eloquence  which  had 
made  him  supreme  in  the  House  of  Commons 
often  fell  dead  on  the  House  of  Lords.  A cruel 
malady  racked  his  joints,  and  left  his  joints 
only  to  fall  on  his  nerves  and  on  his  brain. 
During  the  closing  years  of  his  life,  he  was 
odious  to  the  court,  and  yet  was  not  on  cordial 
terms  with  the  great  body  of  the  Opposition. 
Chatham  was  only  the  ruin  of  Pitt,  but  an  awful 
and  majestic  ruin,  not  to  be  contemplated  by 
any  man  of  sense  and  feeling  without  emotions 
resembling  those  which  are  excited  by  the  re- 
mains of  the  Parthenon  and  of  the  Coliseum. 
In  one  respect  the  old  statesman  was  eminently 
happy.  Whatever  might  be  the  vicissitudes  of 
his  public  life,  he  never  failed  to  find  peace  and 
love  by  his  own  hearth.  He  loved  all  his 
children,  and  was  loved  by  them  ; and,  of  all 
his  children,  the  one  of  whom  he  was  fondest 
and  proudest  was  his  second  son. 

The  child’s  genius  and  ambition  displayed 
themselves  with  a rare  and  almost  unnatural 
precocity.  At  seven,  the  interest  which  he 
took  in  grave  subjects,  the  ardor  with  which 
he  pursued  his  studies,  and  the  sense  and  viva- 
city of  his  remarks  on  books  and  on  events, 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


293 


amazed  his  parents  and  instructors.  One  of 
his  sayings  of  this  date  was  reported  to  his 
mother  by  his  tutor.  In  August,  1766,  when 
the  world  was  agitated  by  the  news  that 
Mr.  Pitt  had  become  Earl  of  Chatham,  little 
Wiliiam  exclaimed : “ I am  glad  that  I am  not 
the  eldest  son.  I want  to  speak  in  the  House 
of  Commons  like  papa.”  A letter  is  extant  in 
which  Lady  Chatham,  a woman  of  considerable 
abilities,  remarked  to  her  lord,  that  their 
younger  son  at  twelve  had  left  far  behind  him 
his  elder  brother,  who  was  fifteen.  “ The 
fineness,”  she  wrote,  “ of  William’s  mind 
makes  him  enjoy  with  the  greatest  pleasure 
what  would  be  above  the  reach  of  any  other 
creature  of  his  small  age.”  At  fourteen  the 
lad  was  in  intellect  a man.  Hayley,  who  met 
him  at  Lyme  in  the  summer  of  1773,  was  as- 
tonished, delighted,  and  somewhat  overawed, 
by  hearing  wit  and  wisdom  from  so  young  a 
mouth.  The  poet,  indeed,  was  afterwards 
sorry  that  his  shyness  had  prevented  him  from 
submitting  the  plan  of  an  extensive  literary 
work,  which  he  was  then  meditating,  to  the 
judgment  of  this  extraordinary  boy.  The  boy, 
indeed,  had  already  written  a tragedy,  bad  of 
course,  but  not  worse  than  the  tragedies  of  his 
friend.  This  piece  is  still  preserved  at  Cheven- 
ing,  and  is  in  some  respects  highly  curious. 
There  is  no  love.  The  whole  plot  is  political ; 
and  it  is  remarkable  that  the  interest,  such  as 
it  is,  turns  on  a contest  about  a regency.  On 
one  side  is  a faithful  servant  of  the  Crown,  on 
the  other  an  ambitious  and  unprincipled  con- 
spirator. At  length  the  King,  who  had  been 
missing,  reappears,  resumes  his  power,  and 
rewards  the  faithful  defender  of  his  rights.  A 
reader  who  should  judge  only  by  internal  evi- 
dence would  have  no  hesitation  in  pronouncing 
that  the  play  was  written  by  some  Pittite 
poetaster  at  the  time  of  the  rejoicings  for  the 
recovery  of  George  the  Third  in  1789. 

The  pleasure  with  which  William’s  parents 


294 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESS  A YS. 


observed  the  rapid  development  of  his  intel- 
lectual powers  was  alloyed  by  apprehensions 
about  his  health.  He  shot  up  alarmingly 
fast ; he  was  often  ill,  and  always  weak  ; it 
was  feared  that  it  w'ould  be  impossible  to  rear 
a stripling  so  tall,  so  slender,  and  so  feeble. 
Port  wine  was  prescribed  by  his  medical  ad- 
visers : and  it  is  said  that  he  was,  at  fourteen, 
accustomed  to  take  this  agreeable  physic  in 
quantities  which  would,  in  our  abstemious  age, 
be  thought  much  more  than  sufficient  for  any 
full-grown  man.  This  regimen,  though  it 
would  probably  have  killed  ninety-nine  boys 
out  of  a hundred,  seems  to  have  been  well 
fitted  to  the  peculiarities  of  William’s  constitu- 
tion ; for  at  fifteen  he  ceased  to  be  molested 
by  disease,  and,  though  never  a strong  man, 
continued,  during  many  years  of  labor  and 
anxiety,  of  nights  passed  in  debate  and  of 
summers  passed  in  London,  to  be  a tolerably 
healthy  one.  It  was  probably  on  account  of 
the  delicacy  of  his  frame  that  he  was  not  edu- 
cated like  other  boys  of  the  same  rank.  Al- 
most all  the  eminent  English  statesmen  and 
orators  to  whom  he  was  afterwards  opposed  or 
allied,  North,  Fox,  Shelburne,  Windham,  Grey, 
Wellesley,  Grenville,  Sheridan,  Canning,  went 
through  the  training  of  great  public  schools. 
Lord  Chatham  had  himself  been  a distin- 
guished Etonian  ; and  it  is  seldom  that  a dis- 
tinguished Etonian  forgets  his  obligations  to 
Eton.  But  William’s  infirmities  required  a 
vigilance  and  tenderness  such  as  could  be 
found  only  at  home.  He  was  therefore  bred 
under  the  paternal  roof.  His  studies  were 
superintended  by  a clergyman  named  Wilson ; 
and  those  studies,  though  often  interrupted  by 
illness,  were  prosecuted  with  extraordinary 
success.  Before  the  lad  had  completed  his 
fifteenth  year,  his  knowledge  both  of  the  an- 
cient languages  and  of  mathematics  was  such 
as  very  few  men  of  eighteen  then  earned  up  to 
college,  He  was  therefore  sent,  towards  the 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


295 


close  of  the  year  1773,  to  Pembroke  Hall,  in 
the  University  of  Cambridge.  So  young  a 
student  required  much  more  than  the  ordinary 
care  which  a college  tutor  bestows  on  under- 
graduates. The  governor,  to  whom  the  direc- 
tion of  William’s  academical  life  was  confided, 
was  a bachelor  of  arts  named  Pretyman,  who 
had  been  senior  wrangler  in  the  preceding 
year,  and  who,  though  not  a man  of  prepos- 
sessing appearance  or  brilliant  parts,  was  emi- 
nently acute  and  laborious,  a sound  scholar, 
and  an  excellent  geometrician.  At  Cambridge 
Pretyman  was,  during  more  than  two  years,  the 
inseparable  companion,  and  indeed  almost  the 
only  companion,  of  his  pupil.  A close  and 
lasting  friendship  sprang  up  between  the  pair. 
The  disciple  was  able,  before  he  completed  his 
twenty-eighth  year,  to  make  his  preceptor 
Bishop  of  Lincoln  and  Dean  of  St.  Paul's;  and 
the  preceptor  showed  his  gratitude  by  writing 
a life  of  the  disciple,  which  enjoys  the  distinc- 
tion of  being  the  worst  biographical  work  of  its 
size  in  the  world. 

Pitt,  till  he  graduated,  had  scarcely  one  ac- 
quaintance, attended  chapel  regularly  morning 
and  evening,  dined  everyday  in  hall,  and  never 
went  to  a single  evening  party.  At  seventeen, 
he  was  admitted,  after  the  bad  fashion  of  those 
times,  by  right  of  birth,  without  any  examina- 
tion, to  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts.  But  he 
continued  during  some  years  to  reside  at  col- 
lege, and  to  apply  himself  vigorously,  under 
Pretyman’s  direction,  to  the  studies  of  the 
place,  while  mixing  freely  in  the  best  academic 
society. 

The  stock  of  learning  which  Pitt  laid  in 
during  this  part  of  his  life  was  certainly  very 
extraordinary.  In  fact,  it  was  all  that  he  ever 
possessed  ; for  he  very  early  became  too  busy 
to  have  any  spare  time  for  books.  The  work 
in  which  he  took  the  greatest  delight  was  New- 
ton’s Principia.  His  liking  for  mathematics, 
indeed,  amounted  to  a passion,  which,  ip  the 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


296 

opinion  of  his  instructors,  themselves  distin- 
guished mathematicians,  required  to  be  checked 
rather  than  encouraged.  The  acuteness  and 
readiness  with  which  he  solved  problems  was 
pronounced  by  one  of  the  ablest  of  the  mod- 
erators, who  in  those  days  presided  over  the 
disputations  in  the  schools,  and  conducted  ex- 
aminations of  the  Senate  House,  to  be  unri- 
valled in  the  University.  Nor  was  the  youth’s 
proficiency  in  classical  learning  less  remarka- 
ble. In  one  respect,  indeed,  he  appeared  to 
disadvantage  when  compared  with  even  second- 
rate  and  third-rate  men  from  public  schools.  He 
had  never,  while  under  Wilson’s  care,  been  in 
the  habit  of  composing  in  the  ancient  languages ; 
and  he  therefore  never  acquired  that  knack  of 
versification  which  is  sometimes  possessed  by 
clever  boys,  whose  knowledge  of  the  language 
and  literature  of  Greece  and  Rome  is  very  su- 
perficial. It  would  have  been  utterly  out  of 
his  power  to  produce  such  charming  elegiac 
lines  as  those  in  which  Wellesley  bade  farewell 
to  Eton,  or  such  Virgilian  hexameters  as  those 
in  which  Canning  described  the  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca.  But  it  may  be  doubted  whether  any 
scholar  has  ever,  at  twenty,  had  a more  solid 
and  profound  knowledge  of  the  two  great 
tongues  of  the  old  civilized  world.  The  facil- 
ity with  which  he  penetrated  the  meaning  of 
the  most  intricate  sentences  in  the  Attic  writ- 
ers astonished  veteran  critics.  He  had  set 
his  heart  on  being  intimately  acquainted  with 
all  the  extant  poetry  of  Greece,  and  was  not 
satisfied  till  he  had  mastered  Lycophron’s  Cas- 
sandra, the  most  obscure  work  in  the  whole 
range  of  ancient  literature.  This  strange  rhap- 
sody, the  difficulties  of  which  have  perplexed 
and  repelled  many  excellent  scholars,  “ he 
read,”  says  his  perceptor,  “ with  an  ease  at 
first  sight,  which,  if  I had  not  witnessed  it,  I 
should  have  thought  beyond  the  compass  of 
human  intellect.” 

To  modern  literature  Pitt  paid  comparatively 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


297 


little  attention.  He  knew  no  living  language  ex- 
cept French;  and  French  he  knew  very  imper- 
fectly. With  a few  of  the  best  English  writers 
he  was  intimate,  particularly  with  Shakspeare 
and  Milton.  The  debate  in  Pandemonium, 
was,  as  it  well  deserved  to  be,  one  of  his  favor- 
ite passages  ; and  his  early  friends  used  to 
talk,  long  after  his  death,  of  the  just  emphasis 
and  the  melodious  cadence  with  which  they  had 
heard  him  recite  the  incomparable  speech  of 
Belial.  He  had  indeed  been  carefully  trained 
from  infancy  in  the  art  of  managing  his  voice, 
a voice  naturally  clear  and  deep-toned.  His 
father,  whose  oratory  owed  no  small  part  of  its 
effect  to  that  art,  had  been  a most  skilful  and 
judicious  instructor.  At  a later  period,  the 
wits  of  Brookes’s,  irritated  by  observing,  night 
after  night,  how  powerfully  Pitt’s  sonorous  elo- 
cution fascinated  the  rows  of  country  gentle- 
men, reproached  him  with  having  been  “ taught 
by  his  dad  on  a stool.” 

His  education,  indeed,  was  well  adapted  to 
form  a great  parliamentary  speaker.  One 
argument  often  urged  against  those  classical 
studies  which  occupy  so  large  a part  of  the 
early  life  of  every  gentleman  bred  in  the  south 
of  our  island  is,  that  they  prevent  him  from  ac- 
quiring a command  of  his  mother  tongue,  and 
that  it  is  not  unusual  to  meet  with  a youth  of 
excellent  parts,  who  writes  Ciceronian  Latin 
prose  and  Horatian  Latin  Alcaics,  but  who 
would  find  it  impossible  to  express  his  thoughts 
in  pure,  perspicuous,  and  forcible  English. 
There  may  perhaps  be  some  truth  in  this  ob- 
servation. But  the  classical  studies  of  Pitt 
were  carried  on  in  a peculiar  manner,  and  had 
the  effect  of  enriching  his  English  vocabulary, 
and  of  making  him  wonderfully  expert  in  the 
art  of  constructing  correct  English  sentences. 
His  practice  was  to  look  over  a page  or  two  of 
a Greek  or  Latin  author,  to  make  himself 
master  of  the  meaning,  and  then  to  read  the 
passage  straight-forward  into  his  own  language. 


2 yS  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

This  practice,  begun  under  his  first  teacher 
Wilson,  was  continued  under  Pretvman.  It  is 
not  strange  that  a young  man  of  great  abilities 
who  had  been  exercised  daily  in  this  way  during 
ten  years,  should  have  acquired  an  almost  un- 
rivalled power  of  putting  his  thoughts,  without 
premeditation,  into  words  well  selected  and 
well  arranged. 

Of  all  the  remains  of  antiquity,  the  orations 
were  those  on  which  he  bestowed  the  most 
minute  examination.  His  favorite  employment 
was  to  compare  harangues  on  opposite  sides  of 
the  same  question,  to  analyze  them,  and  to 
observe  which  of  the  arguments  of  the  first 
speaker  were  refuted  by  the  second,  which 
were  evaded,  and  which  were  left  untouched. 
Nor  was  it  only  in  books  that  he  at  this  time 
studied  the  art  of  parliamentary  fencing.  When 
he  was  at  home,  he  had  frequent  opportunities 
of  hearing  important  debates  at  Westminster  ; 
and  he  heard  them,  not  only  with  interest  and 
enjoyment,  but  with  a close  scientific  attention 
resembling  that  with  which  a diligent  pupil  at 
Guy’s  Hospital  watches  every  turn  of  the  hand 
of  a great  surgeon  through  a difficult  operation. 
On  one  of  these  occasions,  Pitt,  a youth  whose 
abilities  were  as  yet  known  only  to  his  own 
family  and  to  a small  knot  of  college  friends, 
was  introduced  on  the  steps  of  the  throne  in 
the  House  of  Lords  to  Fox,  who  was  his  senior 
by  eleven  years,  and  who  was  already  the 
greatest  debater,  and  one  of  the  greatest 
orators,  that  had  appeared  in  England.  Fox 
used  afterwards  to  relate  that,  as  the  discussion 
proceeded,  Pitt  repeatedly  turned  to  him  and 
said,  “ But  surely,  Mr.  Fox,  that  might  be  met 
thus;”  or,  “Yes;  but  he  lays  himself  open  to 
this  retort.”  What  the  particular  criticisms 
were  Fox  had  forgotten  ; but  he  said  that  he 
was  much  struck  at  the  time  by  the  precocity 
of  a lad  who  through  the  whole  sitting,  seemed 
to  be  thinking  only  how  all  the  speeches  on 
both  sides  could  be  answered. 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


2 99 

One  of  the  young  man’s  visits  to  the  House 
of  Lords  was  a sad  memorable  era  in  his  life. 
He  had  not  quite  completed  his  nineteenth 
year,  when,  on  the  7th  of  April,  1778,  he  at- 
tended his  father  to  Westminster.  A great 
debate  was  expected.  It  was  known  that 
France  had  recognized  the  independence  of 
the  United  States.  The  Duke  of  Richmond 
was  about  to  declare  his  opinion  that  all 
thought  of  subjugating  those  states  ought  to  be 
relinquished.  Chatham  had  always  maintained 
that  the  resistance  of  the  colonies  to  the  mother 
country  w'as  justifiable.  But  he  conceived, 
very  erroneously,  that  on  the  day  on  u'hich  their 
independence  should  be  acknowledged  the 
greatness  of  England  w'ould  be  at  an  end. 
Though  sinking  under  the  weight  of  years  and 
infirmities,  he  determined,  in  spite  of  the  en- 
treaties of  his  family,  to  be  in  his  place.  His 
son  supported  him  to  a seat.  The  excitement 
and  exertion  were  too  much  for  the  old  man. 
In  the  very  act  of  addressing  the  peers,  he  fell 
back  in  convulsions.  A few  weeks  later  his 
corpse  was  borne,  with  gloomy  pomp  from  the 
Painted  Chamber  to  the  Abbey.  The  favorite 
child  and  namesake  of  the  deceased  statesman 
followed  the  coffin  as  chief  mourner,  and  saw 
it  deposited  in  the  transept  where  his  own  was 
destined  to  lie. 

His  elder  brother,  now  Earl  of  Chatham, 
had  means  sufficient,  and  barely  sufficient,  to 
support  the  dignity  of  the  peerage.  The  other 
members  of  the  family  were  poorly  provided 
for.  William  had  little  more  than  three  hun- 
dred a year.  It  was  necessary  for  him  to 
follow  a profession.  He  had  already  begun  to 
eat  his  terms.  In  the  spring  of  1780  he  came 
of  age.  He  then  quitted  Cambridge,  was 
called  to  the  bar,  took  chambers  in  Lincoln’s 
Inn,  and  joined  the  western  circuit.  In  the 
autumn  of  that  year  a general  election  took 
place  ; and  he  offered  himself  as  a candidate 
for  the  university ; but  he  was  at  the  bottom, 


3°° 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


of  the  poll.  It  is  said  that  the  grave  doctors 
who  then  sate,  robed  in  scarlet,  on  the  benches 
of  Golgotha,  thought  it  great  presumption  in 
so  young  a man  to  solicit  so  high  a distinction. 
He  was,  however,  at  the  request  of  a hereditary 
friend,  the  Duke  of  Rutland,  brought  into 
Parliament  by  Sir  James  Lowther  for  the 
borough  of  Appleby. 

The  dangers  of  the  country  were  at  that 
time  such  as  might  well  have  disturbed  even  a 
constant  mind.  Army  after  army  had  been 
sent  in  vain  against  the  rebellious  colonists  of 
North  America.  On  pitched  fields  of  battle 
the  advantage  had  been  with  the  disciplined 
troops  of  the  mother  country.  But  it  was  not 
on  pitched  fields  of  battle  that  the  event  of 
such  a contest  could  be  decided.  An  armed 
nation,  with  hunger  and  the  Atlantic  for  auxil- 
iaries, was  not  to  be  subjugated.  Meanwhile  the 
House  of  Bourbon,  humbled  to  the  dust  a few 
years  before  by  the  genius  and  vigor  of  Chat- 
ham, had  seized  the  opportunity  of  revenge. 
France  and  Spain  were  united  against  us,  and 
had  recently  been  joined  by  Holland.  The 
command  of  the  Mediterranean  had  been  for 
a time  lost.  The  British  flag  had  been  scarcely 
able  to  maintain  itself  in  the  British  Channel. 
The  northern  powers  professed  neutrality  ; but 
their  neutrality  had  a menacing  aspect.  In 
the  East,  Hyder  had  descended  on  the  Carnatic 
had  destroyed  the  little  army  of  Baillie,  and 
had  spread  terror  even  to  the  the  ramparts  of 
Fort  St.  George.  The  discontents  of  Ireland 
threatened  nothing  less  than  civil  war.  In 
England  the  authority  of  the  government  had 
sunk  to  the  lowest  point.  The  King  and  the 
House  of  Commons  were  alike  unpopular.  The 
cry  for  parliamentary  reform  was  scarcely  less 
loud  and  vehement  than  in  the  autumn  of  1830. 
Formidable  associations,  headed,  not  by  ordi- 
nary demagogues,  but  by  men  of  high  rank, 
stainless  character,  and  distinguished  ability, 
demanded  a revision  of  the  representative 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


3°x 


system.  The  populace,  emboldened  by  the 
impotence  and  irresolution  of  the  government, 
had  recently  broken  loose  from  all  restraint, 
besieged  the  chambers  of  the  legislature,  hus- 
tled peers,  hunted  bishops,  attacked  the  resi- 
dences of  ambassadors,  opened  prisons,  burned 
and  pulled  down  houses.  London  had  pre- 
sented during  some  days  the  aspect  of  a city 
taken  by  storm  and  it  had  been  necessary  to 
form  a camp  among  the  trees  of  Saint  James’s 
Park. 

In  spite  of  dangers  and  difficulties  abroad 
and  at  home,  George  the  Third,  with  a firmness 
which  had  little  affinity  with  virtue  or  with  wis- 
dom, persisted  in  his  determination  to  put  down 
the  American  rebels  by  force  of  arms  ; and 
his  ministers  submitted  their  judgment  to  his. 
Some  of  them  were  probably  actuated  merely 
by  selfish  cupidity  ; but  their  chief,  Lord  North, 
a man  of  high  honor,  amiable  temper,  winning 
manners,  lively  wit,  and  excellent  talents  both 
for  business  and  for  debate,  must  be.  acquitted 
of  all  sordid  motives.  He  remained  at  a post 
from  which  he  had  long  wished  and  had  re- 
peatedly tried  to  escape,  only  because  he  had 
not  sufficient  fortitude  to  resist  the  entreaties 
and  reproaches  of  the  King,  who  silenced  all 
arguments  by  passionately  asking  whether  any 
gentleman,  any  man  of  spirit,  could  have  the 
heart  to  desert  kind  master  in  the  hour  of 
extremity. 

The  opposition  consisted  of  two  parties 
which  had  once  been  hostile  to  each  other,  and 
which  had  been  very  slowly,  and,  as  it  soon  ap- 
peared, very  imperfectly  reconciled,  but  which 
at  this  conjuncture  seemed  to  act  together  with 
cordiality.  The  larger  of  these  parties  consisted 
of  the  great  body  of  the  Whig  aristocracy.  Its 
head  was  Charles,  Marquis  of  Rockingham,  a 
man  of  sense  and  virtue,  and  in  wealth  and 
parliamentary  interest  equalled  by  very  few  of 
the  English  nobles,  but  afflicted  with  a nervous 
timidity  which  prevented  him  from  taking  a 


302 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


prominent  part  in  debate.  In  the  House  of 
Commons,  the  adherents  of  Rockingham  were 
led  by  Fox,  whose  dissipated  habits  and  ruined 
fortunes  were  the  talk  of  the  whole  town,  but 
whose  commanding  genius,  and  whose  sweet, 
generous,  and  affectionate  disposition,  extorted 
the  admiration  and  love  of  those  who  most 
lamented  the  errors  of  his  private  life.  Burke, 
superior  to  Fox  in  largeness  of  comprehen- 
sion, in  extent  of  knowledge,  and  splendor 
of  imagination,  but  less  skilled  in  that  kind  of 
logic  and  in  that  kind  of  rhetoric  which  con- 
vince and  persuade  great  assemblies,  was  will- 
ing to  be  the  lieutenant  of  a young  chief  who 
might  have  been  his  son. 

A smaller  section  of  the  opposition  was  com- 
posed of  the  old  followers  of  Chatham.  At 
their  head  was  William,  Earl  of  Shelburne, 
distinguished  both  as  a statesman  and  as  a 
lover  of  science  and  letters.  With  him  were 
leagued  Lord  Camden,  who  had  formerly  held 
the  Great  Seal,  and  whose  integrity,  ability, 
and  constitutional  knowledge  commanded  the 
public  respect  ; Barrd,  an  eloquent  and  acri- 
monious declaimer  ; and  Dunning,  who  had 
long  held  the  first  place  at  the  English  Bar. 
It  was  to  this  party  that  Pitt  was  naturally 
attracted. 

On  the  26th  of  February,  1781,  he  made  his 
first  speech,  in  favor  of  Burke’s  plan  of  econ- 
omical reform.  Fox  stood  up  at  the  same 
moment,  but  instantly  gave  away.  The  lofty 
yet  animated  deportment  of  the  young  mem- 
ber, his  perfect  self-possession,  the  readiness 
with  which  he  replied  to  the  orators  who  had 
preceded  him,  the  silver  tones  of  his  voice,  the 
perfect  structure  of  his  unpremeditated  sen- 
tences, astonished  and  delighted  his  hearers, 
Burke,  moved  even  to  tears,  exclaimed,  “ It 
is  not  a chip  of  the  old  block  ; it  is  the  old 
block  itself.”  “ Pitt  will  be  one  of  the  first 
men  in  Parliament,”  said  a member  of  the 
opposition  to  Fox.  “ He  is  so  already,”  an- 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


3°3 


swered  Fox,  in  whose  nature  envy  had  no  place. 
It  is  a curious  fact,  well  remembered  by  some 
who  were  very  recently  living,  that  soon  after 
this  debate  Pitt’s  name  was  put  up  by  Fox  at 
Brookes’s 

On  two  subsequent  occasions  during  that 
session  Pitt  addressed  the  House,  and  on  both 
fully  sustained  the  reputation  which  he  had 
acquired  on  his  first  appearance.  In  the  sum- 
mer, after  the  prorogation,  he  again  went  the 
western  circuit,  held  several  briefs,  and  ac- 
quitted himself  in  such  a manner  that  he  was 
highly  complimented  by  Buller  from  the  bench, 
and  by  Dunning  at  the  bar. 

On  the  27th  of  November  the  Parliament 
reassembled.  Only  forty-eight  hours  before 
had  arrived  tidings  of  the  surrender  of  Corn- 
wallis and  his  army  ; and  it  had  consequently 
been  necessary  to  rewrite  the  royal  speech. 
Every  man  in  the  kingdom,  except  the  King, 
was  now  convinced  that  it  was  mere  madness 
to  think  of  conquering  the  United  States.  In 
the  debate  on  the  report  of  the  address,  Pitt 
spoke  with  even  more  energy  and  brilliancy 
than  on  any  former  occasion.  He  was  warmly 
applauded  by  his  allies  ; but  it  was  remarked 
that  no  person  on  his  own  side  of  the  house 
was  so  loud  in  eulogy  as  Henry  Dundas,  the 
Lord  Advocate  of  Scotland,  who  spoke  from 
the  ministerial  ranks.  That  able  and  versatile 
politician  distinctly  foresaw  the  approaching 
downfall  of  the  government  with  which  he  was 
connected,  and  was  preparing  to  make  his  own 
escape  from  the  ruin.  From  that  night  dates 
his  connection  with  Pitt,  a connection  which 
soon  became  a close  intimacy,  and  which 
lasted  till  it  was  dissolved  by  death. 

About  a fortnight  later,  Pitt  spoke  in  the 
committee  of  supply  on  the  army  estimates. 
Symptoms  of  dissension  had  begun  to  appear 
on  the  Treasury  bench.  Lord  George  Ger- 
maine, the  Secretary  of  State  who  was  espe- 
cially charged  with  the  direction  of  the  war  in 


3°4 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


America,  had  held  language  not  easily  to  be 
reconciled  with  declarations  made  by  the 
First  Lord  of  the  Treasury.  Pitt  noticed  the 
discrepancy  with  much  force  and  keenness. 
Lord  George  and  Lord  North  began  to  whisper 
together  : and  Welbore  Ellis,  an  ancient  place- 
man who  had  been  drawing  salary  almost  every 
quarter  since  the  days  of  Henry  Pelham,  bent 
down  between  them  to  put  in  a word.  Such 
interruptions  sometimes  discompose  veteran 
speakers.  Pitt  stopped,  and,  looking  at  the 
group,  said,  with  admirable  readiness,  “ I shall 
wait  till  Nestor  has  composed  the  dispute  be- 
tween Agamemnon  and  Achilles.” 

After  several  defeats,  or  victories  hardly  to 
be  distinguished  from  defeats,  the  ministry  re- 
signed. The  King,  reluctantly  and  ungraciously 
consented  to  accept  Rockingham  as  first 
minister.  Fox  and  Shelburne  became  Secre- 
taries of  State.  Lord  John  Cavendish,  one  of 
the  most  upright  and  honorable  of  men,  was 
made  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  Thurlow, 
whose  abilities  and  force  of  character  had  made 
him  the  dictator  of  the  House  of  Lords,  con- 
tinued to  hold  the  great  seal. 

To  Pitt  was  offered,  through  Shelburne,  the 
Vice-Treasurership  of  Ireland,  one  of  the 
easiest  and  most  highly  paid  places  in  the  gift 
of  the  Crown  ; but  the  offer  was,  without  hesi- 
tation, declined.  The  young  statesman  had  re- 
solved to  accept  no  post  which  did  not  entitle 
him  to  a seat  in  the  cabinet  : and,  a few  days 
later  he  announced  that  resolution  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  the  cabinet  was  then  a much  smaller  and 
more  select  body  than  at  present.  We  have 
seen  cabinets  of  sixteen.  In  the  time  of  our 
grandfathers  a cabinet  of  ten  or  eleven  was 
thought  inconveniently  large.  Seven  was  an 
usual  number.  Even  Burke,  who  had  taken 
the  lucrative  office  of  paymaster,  was  not  in 
the  cabinet.  Many  therefore  thought  Pitt’s 
declaration  indecent  He  himself  was  sorry 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


305 


that  he  had  made  it.  The  words,  he  said  in 
private,  had  escaped  him  in  the  heat  of  speak- 
ing ; and  he  had  no  sooner  uttered  them  than 
he  would  have  given  the  world  to  recall  them. 
They,  however,  did  him  no  harm  with  the  pub- 
lic. The  second  William  Pitt,  it  was  said,  had 
shown  that  he  had  inherited  the  spirit,  as  well 
as  the  genius,  of  the  first.  In  the  son,  as  in 
the  father,  there  might  perhaps  be  too  much 
pride  ; but  there  was  nothing  low  or  sordid. 
It  might  be  called  arrogance  in  a young  bar- 
rister, living  in  chambers  on  three  hundred  a 
year,  to  refuse  a salary  of  five  thousand  a year, 
merely  because  he  did  not  choose  to  bind  him- 
self to  speak  or  vote  for  plans  which  he  had  no 
share  in  framing  ; but  surely  such  arrogance 
was  not  very  far  removed  from  virtue. 

Pitt  gave  a general  support  to  the  adminis- 
tration of  Rockingham,  but  omitted,  in  the 
mean  time,  no  opportunity  of  courting  that 
Ultra-Whig  party  which  the  persecution  of 
Wilkes  and  the  Middlesex  election  had  called 
into  existence,  and  which  the  disastrous  events 
of  the  war,  and  the  triumph  of  republican  prin- 
ciples in  America,  had  made  formidable  both 
in  numbers  and  in  temper.  He  supported  a 
motion  for  shortening  the  duration  of  Parlia- 
ments. He  made  a motion  for  a committee  to 
examine  into  the  state  of  the  representation, 
and,  in  the  speech  by  which  that  motion  was 
introduced,  avowed  himself  the  enemy  of  the 
close  boroughs,  the  strongholds  of  that  corrup- 
tion to  which  he  attributed  all  the  calamities 
of  the  nation,  and  which,  as  he  phrased  it  in 
one  of  those  exact  and  sonorous  sentences  of 
which  he  had  a boundless  command,  had 
grown  with  the  growth  of  England  and  strength- 
ened with  her  strength,  but  had  not  diminished 
with  her  diminution  or  decayed  with  her  decay. 
On  this  occasion  he  was  supported  by  Fox. 
The  motion  was  lost  by  only  twenty  votes  in  a 
house  of  more  than  three  hundred  members. 


306  biographical  essays. 

The  reformers  never  again  had  so  good  a divis- 
ion till  the  year  1831. 

The  new  administration  was  strong  in  abili- 
ties, and  was  more  popular  than  any  adminis- 
tration which  had  held  office  since  the  first 
year  of  George  the  Third,  but  was  hated  by 
the  King,  hesitatingly  supported  by  the  Parlia- 
ment, and  torn  by  internal  dissensions.  The 
Chancellor  was  disliked  and  distrusted  by  al- 
most all  his  colleagues.  The  two  Secretaries 
of  State  regarded  each  other  with  no  friendly 
feeling.  The  line  between  their  departments 
had  not  been  traced  with  precision  ; and  there 
were  consequently  jealousies,  encroachments 
and  complaints.  It  was  all  that  Rockingham 
could  do  to  keep  the  peace  in  his  cabinet ; 
and  before  the  cabinet  had  existed  three 
months,  Rockingham  died. 

In  an  instant  all  was  confusion.  The  ad- 
herents of  the  deceased  statesman  looked  on 
the  Duke  of  Portland  as  their  chief.  The 
King  placed  Shelburne  at  the  head  of  the 
Treasury.  Fox,  Lord  John  Cavendish,  and 
Burke,  immediately  resigned  their  offices;  and 
the  new  prime  minister  was  left  to  constitute  a 
government  out  of  very  defective  materials. 
His  own  parliamentary  talents  were  great ; 
but  he  could  not  be  in  the  place  where  parlia- 
mentary talents  were  most  needed.  It  was 
necessary  to  find  some  member  of  the  House 
of  Commons  who  could  confront  the  great 
orators  of  the  opposition  ; and  Pitt  alone  had 
the  eloquence  and  the  courage  which  were  re- 
quired. He  was  offered  the  great  place  of 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  ; and  he  accepted 
it.  He  had  scarcely  completed  his  twenty- 
third  year. 

The  Parliament  was  speedily  prorogued. 
During  the  recess,  a negotiation  for  peace 
which  had  been  commenced  under  Rocking- 
ham was  brought  to  a successful  termination. 
England  acknowledged  the  independence  of 
her  revolted  colonies;  and  she  ceded  to  her 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


3 °7 


European  enemies  some  places  in  the  Medi- 
terranean and  in  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  But  the 
terms  which  she  obtained  were  quite  as  ad- 
vantageous and  honorable  as  the  events  of  the 
war  entitled  her  to  expect,  or  as  she  was  likely 
to  obtain  by  persevering  in  a contest  against 
immense  odds.  All  her  vital  parts,  all  the 
real  sources  of  her  power,  remained  uninjured. 
She  preserved  even  her  dignity;  for  she  ceded 
to  the  House  of  Bourbon  only  part  of  what  she 
had  won  from  that  House  in  previous  wars. 
She  retained  her  Indian  empire  undiminished  ; 
and,  in  spite  of  the  mightiest  efforts  of  two 
great  monarchies,  her  flag  still  waved  on  the 
rock  of  Gibraltar.  There  is  not  the  slightest 
reason  to  believe  that  Fox,  if  he  had  remained 
in  office,  would  have  hesitated  one  moment 
about  concluding  a treaty  on  such  conditions. 
Unhappily  that  great  and  most  amiable  man 
was,  at  this  crisis,  hurried  by  his  passions  into 
an  error  which  made  his  genius  and  his  virtues, 
during  a long  course  of  years,  almost  useless 
to  his  country. 

He  saw  that  the  great  body  of  the  House  of 
Commons  was  divided  into  three  parties,  his 
own,  that  of  North,  and  that  of  Shelburne  ; that 
none  of  those  three  parties  was  large  enough 
to  stand  alone  ; that,  therefore,  unless  two  of 
them  united,  there  must  be  a miserablv  feeble 
administration,  or,  more  probably,  a rapid  suc- 
cession of  miserably  feeble  administrations, 
and  this  at  a time  when  a strong  government 
was  essential  to  the  prosperity  and  respecta- 
bility of  the  nation.  It  was  then  necessary  and 
right  that  there  should  be  a coalition.  To 
every  possible  coalition  there  were  objections. 
But,  of  all  possible  coalitions,  that  to  which 
there  were  the  fewest  objections  was  undoubt- 
edly a coalition  between  Shelburne  and  Fox. 
Itwould  have  been  generally  applauded  by  the 
followers  of  both.  It  might  have  been  made 
without  any  sacrifice  of  public  principle  on  the 
part  of  either.  Unhappily,  recent  bickerings 


308  biographical  essays. 

had  left  in  the  mind  of  Fox  a profound  dislike 
and  distrust  of  Shelburne.  Pitt  attempted  to 
mediate,  and  was  authorized  to  invite  Fox  to 
return  to  the  service  of  the  Crown.  “ Is  Lord 
Shelburne,”  said  Fox,  “ to  remain  prime  min- 
ister ? ” Pitt  answered  in  the  affirmative.  “ It 
is  impossible  that  I can  act  under  him,”  said 
Fox.  “ Then  negotiation  is  at  an  end,”  said 
Pitt  ; “ for  I cannot  betray  him.”  Thus  the 
two  statesmen  parted.  They  were  never  again 
in  a private  room  together. 

As  Fox  and  his  friends  would  not  treat  with 
Shelburne,  nothing  remained  to  them  but  to 
treat  with  North.  That  fatal  coalition  which 
is  emphatically  called  “ The  Coalition  ” was 
formed.  Not  three-quarters  of  a year  had 
elapsed  since  Fox  and  Burke  had  threat- 
ened North  with  impeachment,  and  had  de- 
scribed him,  night  after  night,  as  the  most 
arbitrary,  the  most  corrupt,  the  most  incapable 
of  ministers.  They  now  allied  themselves  with 
him  for  the  purpose  of  driving  from  office  a 
statesman  with  whom  they  cannot  be  said  to 
have  differed  as  to  any  important  question.  Nor 
had  they  even  the  prudence  and  the  patience 
to  wait  for  some  occasion  on  which  they  might, 
without  inconsistency,  have  combined  with 
their  old  enemies  in  opposition  to  the  govern- 
ment. That  nothing  might  be  wanting  to  the 
scandal,  the  great  orators,  who  had,  during 
seven  years,  thundered  against  the  war,  deter- 
mined to  join  with  the  authors  of  that  war  in 
passing  a vote  of  censure  on  the  peace. 

The  Parliament  met  before  Christmas,  1782, 
But  it  was  not  till  January,  1783,  that  the  pre- 
liminary treaties  were  signed.  On  the  17th 
of  February  they  were  taken  into  consideration 
by  the  House  of  Commons.  There  had  been, 
during  some  days,  floating  rumors  that  Fox 
and  North  had  coalesced  ; and  the  debate  in- 
dicated but  too  clearly  that  these  rumors  were 
not  unfounded.  Pitt  was  suffering  from  indis- 
position ; he  did  not  rise  till  his  own  strength 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


3°9 


and  that  cf £ his  hearers  were  exhausted  ; and 
he  was  consequently  less  successful  than  on 
any  former  occasion.  His  admirers  owned 
that  his  speech  was  feeble  and  petulant.  He 
so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  advise  Sheridan  to 
confine  himself  to  amusing  theatrical  andiences. 
This  ignoble  sarcasm  gave  Sheridan  an  oppor- 
tunity of  retorting  with  great  felicity.  “ After 
what  I have  seen  and  heard  to-night,”  he  said, 
“ I really  feel  strongly  tempted  to  venture  on 
a competition  with  so  great  an  artist  as  Ben 
Jonson,  and  to  bring  on  the  stage  a second 
Angry  Boy.”  On  a division,  the  address  pro- 
posed by  the  supporters  of  the  government 
was  rejected  by  a majority  of  sixteen. 

But  Pitt  was  not  a man  to  be  disheartened 
by  a single  failure,  or  to  be  put  down  by  the 
most  lively  repartee.  When,  a few  days  later, 
the  opposition  proposed  a resolution  directly 
censuring  the  treaties,  he  spoke  with  an  elo- 
quence, energy,  and  dignity,  which  raised  his 
fame  and  popularity  higher  than  ever.  To  the 
coalition  of  Fox  and  North  he  alluded  in  lan- 
guage which  drew  forth  tumultuous  applause 
from  his  followers.  “ If,”  he  said,  “ this  ill- 
omened  and  unnatural  marriage  be  not  yet  con- 
summated, I know  of  a just  and  lawful  im- 
pediment ; and,  in  the  name  of  the'  public  weal, 
I forbid  the  banns.” 

The  ministers  were  again  left  in  a minority  ; 
and  Shelburne  consequently  tendered  his  re- 
signation. It  was  accepted  ; but  the  King 
struggled  long  and  hard  before  he  submitted 
to  the  terms  dictated  by  Fox,  whose  faults  he 
detested,  and  whose  high  spirit  and  powerful  in- 
tellect he  detested  still  more.  The  first  place  at 
the  board  of  Treasury  was  repeatedly  offered 
to  Pitt  ; but  the  offer,  though  tempting,  was 
steadfastly  declined.  The  young  man,  whose 
judgment  was  as  precocious  as  his  eloquence, 
saw  that  his  time  was  coming,  but  was  not 
come,  was  deaf  to  royal  importunities  and  re- 
proaches. His  Majesty,  bitterly  complaining 


3io 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


of  Pitt’s  faintheartedness,  tried  to  break  the 
coalition.  Every  art  of  seduction  was  practised 
on  North,  but  in  vain.  During  several  weeks 
the  country  remained  without  a government. 
It  was  not  till  all  devices  had  failed,  and  till 
the  aspect  of  the  House  of  Commons  became 
threatening,  that  the  King  gave  way.  The  Duke 
of  Portland  was  declared  First  Lord  of  the 
Treasury.  Thurlow  was  dismissed.  Fox  and 
North  became  Secretaries  of  State  with  power 
ostensibly  equal.  But  Fox  was  the  real  prime 
minister. 

The  year  was  far  advanced  before  the  new 
arrangements  were  completed;  and  nothing 
very  important  was  done  during  the  remainder 
of  the  session.  Pitt,  now  seated  on  the  op- 
position bench,  brought  the  question  of  parlia- 
mentary reform  a second  time  under  the  con- 
sideration of  the  Commons.  He  proposed  to 
add  to  the  House  at  once  a hundred  county 
members  and  several  members  for  metropolitan 
districts,  and  to  enact  that  every  borough  of 
which  an  election  committee  should  report  that 
the  majority  of  voters  appeared  to  be  corrupt 
should  lose  the  franchise.  The  motion  was 
rejected  by  293  votes  to  149. 

After  the  prorogation,  Pitt  visit  the  Continent 
for  the  first  and  last  time.  His  travelling  com- 
panion was  one  of  his  most  intimate  friends,  a 
young  man  of  his  own  age,  who  had  already 
distinguished  himself  in  Parliament  by  an  en- 
gaging and  natural  eloquence,  set  off  by  the 
sweetest  and  most  exquisitely  modulated  of 
human  voices,  and  whose  affectionate  heart, 
caressing  manners,  and  brilliant  wit,  made  him 
the  most  delightful  of  companions,  William 
Wilberforce.  That  was  the  time  of  Anglomania 
in  France  ; and  at  Paris  the  son  of  the  great 
Chatham  was  absolutely  hunted  by  men  of 
letters  and  women  of  fashion,  and  forced,  much 
against  his  will,  into  political  disputation.  One 
remarkable  saying  which  dropped  from  him 
during  this  tour  has  been  preserved.  A French 


WILLIAM  PLTT. 


gentleman  expressed  some  surprise  at  the  im- 
mense influence  which  Fox,  a man  of  pleasure, 
ruined  by  the  dice-box  and  the  turf,  exercised 
over  the  English  nation.  “ You  have  not,” 
said  Pitt,  “ been  under  the  wand  of  the  magi- 
cian.” 

In  November,  1783,  the  Parliament  met  again. 
The  government  had  irresistible  strength  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  seemed  to  be  scarcely 
less  strong  in  the  House  of  Lords,  but  was,  in 
truth,  surrounded  on  every  side  by  dangers. 
The  King  was  impatiently  waiting  for  the  mo- 
ment at  which  he  could  emancipate  himself 
from  a yoke  which  galled  him  so  severely  that 
he  had  more  than  once  seriously  thought  of 
retiring  to  Hanover  ; and  the  King  was  scarcely 
more  eager  for  a change  than  the  nation.  Fox 
and  North  had  committed  a fatal  error.  They 
ought  to  have  known  that  coalitions  between 
parties  which  have  long  been  hostile  can  succeed 
only  when  the  wish  for  coalition  pervades  the 
lower  ranks  of  both.  If  the  leaders  unite 
before  there  is  any  disposition  to  union  among 
the  followers,  the  probability  is  that  there  will 
be  a mutiny  in  both  camps,  and  that  the  two 
revolted  armies  will  make  a truce  with  each 
other,  in  order  to  be  revenged  on  those  by 
whom  they  think  that  they  have  been  betrayed. 
Thus  it  was  in  1783.  At  the  beginning  of  that 
eventful  year,  North  had  been  the  recognized 
head  of  the  old  Tory  party,  which  though  for  a 
moment  prostrated  by  the  disastrous  issue  of 
the  American  war,  was  still  a great  power  in 
the  state.  To  him  the  clergy,  the  universities, 
and  that  large  body  of  country  gentlemen  whose 
rallying  cry  was  “ Church  and  King,”  had  long 
looked  up  with  respect  and  confidence.  Fox 
had,  on  the  other  hand,  been  the  idol  of  the 
Whigs,  and  of  the  whole  body  of  Protestant 
dissenters.  The  coalition  at  once  alienated 
the  most  zealous  Tories  from  North,  and  the 
most  zealous  Whigs  from  Fox.  The  University 
of  Oxford,  which  had  marked  its  opprobation 


312 


biogra  /v//<  i r,  r.ssA  i 'S. 


of  North’s  orthodoxy  by  electing  him  chancellor, 
the  City  of  London,  which  had  been  during  two 
and  twenty  years  at  war  with  the  Court,  were 
equally  disgusted.  Squires  and  rectors  who 
had  inherited  the  principles  of  the  cavaliers  of 
the  preceding  century,  could  not  forgive  their 
old  leader  for  combining  with  disloyal  subjects 
in  order  to  put  a force  on  the  sovereign.  The 
members  of  the  Bill  of  Rights  Society  and 
of  the  Reform  Associations  were  enraged  by 
learning  that  their  favorite  orator  now  called 
the  great  champion  of  tyranny  and  corruption 
his  noble  friend.  Two  great  multitudes  were  at 
once  left  without  any  head,  and  both  at  once 
turned  their  eyes  on  Pitt.  One  party  saw  in 
him  the  only  man  who  could  rescue  the  King; 
the  other  saw  in  him  the  only  man  who  could' 
purify  the  Parliament.  He  was  supported  on; 
one  side  by  Archbishop  Markham,  the  preacher 
of  divine  right,  and  by  Jenkinson  the  captain 
of  the  Praetorian  band  of  the  King’s  friends  ; 
on  the  other  side  by  Jebb  and  Priestley,  Saw- 
bridge  and  Cartwright,  Jack  Wilkes  and  Horne 
Tooke.  On  the  benches  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  however,  the  ranks  of  the  ministerial 
majority  were  unbroken  ; and  that  any  states- 
man would  venture  to  brave  such  a majority 
was  thought  impossible.  No  prince  of  the 
Hanoverian  line  had  ever,  under  any  provoca- 
tion, ventured  to  appeal  from  the  representative 
body  to  the  constituent  body.  The  ministers, 
therefore,  notwithstanding  the  sullen  looks  and 
muttered  words  of  displeasure  with  which  their 
suggestions  were  received  in  the  closet,  not- 
withstanding the  roar  of  obloquy  which  was 
rising  louder  and  louder  every  day  from  every 
corner  of  the  island,  thought  themselves  secure. 

Such  was  their  confidence  in  their  strength 
that,  as  soon  as  the  Parliament  had  met,  they 
brought  forward  a singularly  bold  and  original 
plan  for  the  government  of  the  British  terri- 
tories in  India.  What  was  proposed  was  that 
the  whole  authority,  which  till  that  time  had 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


313 


been  exercised  over  those  territories  by  the 
East  India  Company,  should  be  transferred  to 
seven  Commissioners  who  were  to  be  named 
by  Parliament,  and  were  not  to  be  removable 
at  the  pleasure  of  the  Crown.  Earl  Fitzwilliam, 
the  most  intimate  personal  friend  of  Fox,  was 
to  be  chairman  of  this  board  ; and  the  eldest 
son  of  North  was  to  be  one  of  the  members. 

As  soon  as  the  outlines  of  the  scheme  were 
known,  all  the  hatred  which  the  coalition  had 
excited  burst  forth  with  an  astounding  ex- 
plosion. The  question  which  ought  undoubtedly 
to  have  been  considered  as  paramount  to  every 
other  was,  whether  the  proposed  change  was 
likely  to  be  beneficial  or  injurious  to  the  thirty 
millions  of  people  who  were  subject  to  the 
Company.  But  that  question  cannot  be  said  to 
have  been  even  seriously  discussed.  Burke, 
who,  whether  right  or  wrong  in  the  conclusions 
to  which  he  came,  had  at  least  the  merit  of  look- 
ing at  the  subject  in  the  right  point  of  view, 
vainly  reminded  his  hearers  of  that  mighty 
population  whose  daily  rice  might  depend  on  a 
vote  of  the  British  Parliament.  He  spoke, 
with  even  more  than  his  wonted  power  of 
thought  and  language,  about  the  desolation  of 
Rohlicund,  about  the  spoliation  of  Benares, 
about  the  evil  policy  which  had  suffered  the 
tanks  of  the  Carnatic  to  go  to  ruin  ; but  he 
could  scarcely  obtain  a hearing.  The  contend- 
ing parties,  to  their  shame  it  must  be  said, 
would  listen  to  none  but  English  topics.  Out 
of  doors  the  cry  against  the  ministry  was 
almost  universal.  Town  and  country  were 
united.  Corporations  exclaimed  against  the 
violation  of  the  charter  of  the  greatest  corpora- 
tion in  the  realm.  Tories  and  democrats 
joined  in  pronouncing  the  proposed  board  an 
unconstitutional  body.  It  was  to  consist  of 
Fox’s  nominees.  The  effect  of  this  bill  was  to 
give,  not  to  the  Crown,  but  to  him  personally, 
whether  in  office  or  in  opposition,  an  enormous 
power,  a patronage  sufficient  to  counterbalance 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


3*4 

the  patronage  of  the  Treasury  and  of  the 
Admiralty,  and  to  decide  the  elections  for  fifty 
boroughs.  He  knew,  it  was  said,  he  was  hate- 
ful alike  to  King  and  people ; and  he  had 
devised  a plan  which  would  make  him  indepen- 
dent of  both.  Some  nicknamed  him  Cromwell, 
and  some  Carlo  Khan.  Wilberforce,  with  his 
usual  felicity  of  expression,  and  with  very 
unusual  bitterness  of  feeling,  described  the 
scheme  as  the  genuine  offspring  of  the  coalition, 
as  marked  with  the  features  of  both  its  parents, 
the  corruption  of  one  and  the  violence  of  the 
other.  In  spite  of  all  opposition,  however,  the 
bill  was  supported  in  every  stage  by  great 
majorities,  was  rapidly  passed  and  was  sent 
up  to  the  Lords.  To  the  general  astonish- 
ment, when  the  second  reading  was  moved  in 
the  Upper  House,  the  opposition  proposed  an 
adjournment,  and  carried  it  by  eighty-seven 
votes  to  seventy-nine.  The  cause  of  this 
strange  turn  of  fortune  was  soon  known.  Pitt’s 
cousin,  Earl  Temple,  had  been  in  the  royal 
closet,  and  had  there  been  authorized  to  let  it 
be  known  that  His  Majesty  would  consider  all 
who  voted  for  the  bill  as  his  enemies.  The 
ignominious  commission  was  performed  ; and 
instantly  a troop  of  Lords  of  the  Bedchamber, 
of  Bishops  who  wished  to  be  translated,  and  of 
Scotch  peers  who  wished  to  be  re-elected,  made 
haste  to  change  sides.  On  a later  day,  the 
Lords  rejected  the  bill.  Fox  and  North  were 
immediately  directed  to  send  their  seals  to  the 
palace  by  their  Under  Secretaries;  and  Pitt 
was  appointed  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  and 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 

The  general  opinion  was,  that  there  would 
be  immediate  dissolution.  But  Pitt  wisely 
determined  to  give  the  public  feeling  time  to 
gather  strength.  On  this  point  he  differed 
from  his  kinsman  Temple.  The  consequence 
was,  that  Temple,  who  had  been  appointed  one 
of  the  Secretaries  of  State,  resigned  his  office 
forty-eight  hours  after  he  had  accepted  it,  and 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


3*5 

thus  relieved  the  new  government  from  a great 
load  of  unpopularity  ; for  all  men  of  sense  and 
honor,  however  strong  might  be  their  dislike  of 
the  India  bill,  disapproved  of  the  manner  in 
which  that  bill  had  been  thrown  out.  Temple 
carried  away  with  him  the  scandal  which  the 
best  friends  of  the  new  government  could  not 
but  lament.  The  fame  of  the  young  prime 
minister  preserved  its  whiteness.  He  could 
declare  with  perfect  truth  that,  if  unconstitu- 
tional machinations  had  been  employed,  he  had 
been  no  party  to  them. 

He  was,  however,  surrounded  by  difficulties 
and  dangers.  In  the  House  of  Lords,  indeed, 
he  had  a majority  ; nor  could  any  orator  of  the 
opposition  in  that  assembly  be  considered  a 
match  for  Thurlow,  who  was  now  again  Chan- 
cellor, or  for  Camden,  who  cordially  supported 
the  son  of  his  old  friend  Chatham.  But  in  the 
other  House  there  was  not  a single  eminent 
speaker  among  the  official  men  who  sate  round 
Pitt.  His  most  useful  assistant  was  Dundas, 
who,  though  he  had  not  eloquence,  had  sense, 
knowledge,  readiness,  and  boldness.  On  the 
opposite  benches  was  a powerful  majority,  led 
by  Fox,  who  was  supported  by  Burke,  North 
and  Sheridan.  The  heart  of  the  young  minister, 
stout  at  it  was,  almost  died  within  him.  He 
could  not  once  close  his  eyes  on  the  night 
which  followed  Temple’s  resignation.  But, 
whatever  his  internal  emotions  might  be,  his 
language  and  deportment  indicated  nothing 
but  unconquerable  firmness  and  haughty  con- 
fidence in  his  own  powers.  His  contest  against 
the  House  of  Commons  lasted  from  the  17th  of 
December,  1783,  to  the  8th  of  March,  1784. 
In  sixteen  divisions  the  opposition  triumphed. 
Again  and  again  the  King  was  requested  to 
dismiss  his  ministers.  Bnt  he  was  determined 
to  go  to  Germany  rather  than  yield.  Pitt’s  res- 
olution never  wavered.  The  cry  of  the  nation 
in  his  favor  became  vehement  and  almost 
furious.  Addresses  assuring  him  of  public 


3 1 6 BIOGRAPHICAL  ESS  A KS. 

support  came  up  daily  from  every  part  of  the 
kingdom.  The  freedom  of  the  city  of  London 
was  presented  to  him  in  a gold  box.  He  went 
in  state  to  receive  this  mark  of  distinction.  He 
was  sumptuously  feasted  in  Grocers’  Hall  ; 
and  the  shopkeepers  of  the  Strand  and  Fleet 
street  illuminated  their  houses  in  his  honor. 
These  things  could  not  but  produce  an  effect 
within  the  walls  of  Parliament.  The  ranks  of 
the  majority  began  to  waver  ; a few  passed 
over  to  the  enemy  ; some  skulked  away  ; many 
were  for  capitulating  while  it  was  still  possible 
to  capitulate  with  the  honors  of  war.  Negoti- 
ations were  opened  with  the  view  of  forming  an 
administration  on  a wide  basis  ; but  they  had 
scarcely  been  opened  when  they  were  closed. 
The  opposition  demanded,  as  a preliminary 
article  of  the  treaty,  that  Pitt  should  resign  the 
Treasury  ; and  with  this  demand  Pitt  steadfastly 
refused  to  comply.  While  the  contest  was 
raging,  the  Clerkship  of  the  Pells,  a sinecure 
place  for  life,  worth  three  thousand  a year,  and 
tenable  with  a seat  in  the  House  of  Commons, 
became  vacant.  The  appointment  was  with  the 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  : nobody  doubted 
that  he  would  appoint  himself,  and  nobody 
could  have  blamed  him  if  he  had  done  so  : for 
such  sinecure  offices  had  always  been  defended 
on  the  ground  that  they  enabled  a few  men  of 
eminent  abilities  and  small  incomes  to  live 
without  any  profession,  and  to  devote  them- 
selves to  the  service  of  the  state.  Pitt,  in  spite 
of  the  remonstrances  of  his  friends,  gave  the 
Pells  to  his  father’s  old  adherent,  Colonel 
Barrb,  a man  distinguished  by  talent  and  elo- 
quence, but  poor  and  afflicted  with  blindness. 
By  this  arrangement  a pension  which  the 
Rockingham  administration  had  granted  to 
Barrd  was  saved  to  the  public.  Never  was 
there  a happier  stroke  of  policy.  About  treaties, 
wars,  expeditions,  tariffs,  budgets,  there  will 
always  be  room  for  dispute.  The  policy  which 
is  applauded  by  half  the  nation  may  be  con- 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


31 7 


demned  by  the  other  half.  But  pecuniary  dis- 
interestedness everybody  comprehends.  It  is 
a great  thing  for  a man  who  has  only  three 
hundred  a year  to  be  able  to  show  that  he  con- 
siders three  thousand  a year  as  mere  dirt  be- 
neath his  feet,  when  compared  with  the  public 
interest  and  the  public  esteem.  Pitt  had  his 
reward.  No  minister  was  ever  more  rancor- 
ously  libelled  ; but,  even  when  he  was  known 
to  be  overwhelmed  with  debt,  when  millions 
were  passing  through  his  hands,  when  the 
wealthiest  magnates  of  the  realm  were  solicit- 
ing him  for  marquisates  and  garters,  his 
bitterest  enemies  did  not  dare  to  accuse  him 
of  touching  unlawful  gain. 

At  length  the  hard  fought  battle  ended.  A 
final  remonstrance,  drawn  up  by  Burke  with 
admirable  skill,  was  carried  on  the  8th  of 
March  by  a single  vote  in  a full  House.  Had 
the  experiment  been  repeated,  the  supporters 
of  the  coalition  would  probably  have  been  in  a 
minority.  But  the  supplies  had  been  voted  ; 
the  Mutiny  Bill  had  been  passed  ; and  the 
Parliament  was  dissolved. 

The  popular  constituent  bodies  all  over  the 
country  were  in  general  enthusiastic  on  the 
side  of  the  new  government.  A hundred  and 
sixty  supporters  of  the  coalition  lost  their  seats. 
The  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  himself  came 
in  at  the  head  of  the  poll  for  the  University  of 
Cambridge.  His  young  friend,  Wilberforce, 
was  elected  knight  of  the  great  shire  of  York, 
in  opposition  to  the  whole  influence  of  the 
Fitzwilliams,  Cavendishes,  Dundases,  and  Sav- 
iles.  In  the  midst  of  such  triumphs  Pitt 
completed  his  twenty-fifth  year.  He  was  now 
the  greatest  subject  that  England  had  seen 
during  many  generations.  He  domineered  ab- 
solutely over  the  cabinet,  and  was  the  favorite 
at  once  of  the  Sovereign,  of  the  Parliament, 
and  of  the  nation.  His  father  had  never  been 
so  powerful,  nor  Walpole,  nor  Marlborough. 

This  narrative  has  now  reached  a point,  be- 


318  biographical  essays. 

yoncl  which  a full  history  of  the  life  of  Pitt 
would  be  a history  of  England,  or  rather  of  the 
whole  civilized  world  ; and  for  such  a history 
this  is  not  the  proper  place.  Here  a very 
slight  sketch  must  suffice  ; and  in  that  sketch 
prominence  will  be  given  to  such  points  as  may 
enable  a reader  who  is  already  acquainted  with 
the  general  course  of  events  to  form  a just 
notion  of  the  character  of  the  man  on  whom 
so  much  depended. 

If  we  wish  to  arrive  at  a correct  judgment  of 
Pitt’s  merits  and  defects,  we  must  never  forget 
that  he  belonged  to  a peculiar  class  of  states- 
men, and  that  he  must  be  tried  by  a peculiar 
standard.  It  is  not  easy  to  compare  him  fairly 
with  such  men  as  Ximenes  and  Sully,  Richelieu 
and  Oxenstiern,  John  de  Witt  and  Warren 
Hastings.  The  means  by  which  those  politicians 
governed  great  communities  were  of  quite  a 
different  kind  from  those  which  Pitt  was  under 
the  necessity  of  employing.  Some  talents, 
which  they  never  had  any  opportunity  of  show- 
ing that  they  possessed,  were  developed  in  him 
to  an  extraordinary  degree.  In  some  qualities, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  which  they  owe  a large 
part  of  their  fame,  he  was  decidedly  their  in- 
ferior. They  transacted  business  in  their 
closets,  or  at  boards  where  a few  confidential 
councillors  sate.  It  was  his  lot  to  be  born  in 
an  age  and  in  a country  in  which  parliamentary 
government  was  completely  established ; his 
whole  training  from  infancy  was  such  as  fitted 
him  to  bear  a part  in  parliamentary  govern- 
ment; and  from  the  prime  of  his  manhood  to 
his  death,  all  the  powers  of  his  vigorous  mind 
were  almost  constantly  exerted  in  the  work  of 
parliamentary  government.  He  accordingly 
became  the  greatest  master  of  the  whole  art 
of  parlimentary  government  that  has  ever  ex- 
isted, a greater  than  Montague  or  Walpole,  a 
greater  than  his  father  Chatham  or  his  rival 
Fox,  a greater  than  either  of  his  illustrious 
successors,  Canning  and  Peel, 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


319 


Parliamentary  government,  like  every  other 
contrivance  of  man,  has  its  advantages  and 
its  disadvantages.  On  the  advantages  there 
is  no  need  to  dilate.  The  history  of  England 
during  the  hundred  and  seventy  years  which 
have  elapsed  since  the  House  of  Commons  be- 
came the  most  powerful  body  in  the  state,  her 
immense  and  still  growing  prosperity,  her 
freedom,  her  tranquillity,  her  greatness  in  arts, 
in  sciences,  and  in  arms,  her  maritime  ascen- 
dency, the  marvels  of  her  public  credit,  her 
American,  her  African,  her  Australian,  her 
Asiatic  empires,  sufficiently  prove  the  excel- 
lence of  her  institutions.  But  those  institutions, 
though  excellent,  are  assuredly  not  perfect. 
Parliamentary  government  is  government  by 
speaking.  In  such  a government,  the  power 
of  speaking  is  the  most  highly  prized  of  all  the 
qualities  which  a politician  can  possess  ; and 
that  power  may  exist,  in  the  highest  degree, 
without  judgment,  without  fortitude,  without 
skill  in  reading  the  characters  of  men  or  the 
signs  of  the  times,  without  any  knowledge  of 
the  principles  of  legislation  or  political  economy 
and  without  any  skill  in  diplomacy  or  in  the 
administration  of  war.  Nay,  it  may  well  happen 
that  those  very  intellectual  qualities  which  give 
a peculiar  charm  to  the  speeches  of  a public 
man  may  be  incompatible  with  the  qualities 
which  would  fit  him  to  meet  a pressing  emer- 
gency with  promptitude  and  firmness.  It  was 
thus  with  Charles  Townshend.  It  was  thus 
with  Windham.  It  was  a privilege  to  listen  to 
those  accomplished  and  ingenious  orators. 
But  in  a perilous  crisis  they  would  have  been 
found  far  inferior  in  all  the  qualities  of  rulers 
to  such  a man  as  Oliver  Cromwell,  who  talked 
nonsense,  or  as  William  the  Silent,  who  did 
not  talk  at  all.  When  parliamentary  govern- 
ment is  established,  a Charles  Townshend  or  a 
Windham  will  almost  always  exercise  much 
greater  influence  than  such  men  as  the  great 
Protector  of  England,  or  as  the  founder  of  the 


320 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


Batavian  commonwealth.  In  such  a govern- 
ment, parliamentary  talent,  though  quite  dis- 
tinct from  the  talents  of  a good  executive  or 
judicial  officer,  will  be  a chief  qualification  for 
executive  and  judicial  office.  From  the  Book  of 
Dignities  a curious  list  might  be  made  out  of 
Chancellors  ignorant  of  the  principles  of  equity, 
and  First  Lords  of  the  Admiralty  ignorant  of  the 
principles  of  navigation,  of  Colonial  ministers 
who  could  not  repeat  the  names  of  the  Colonies, 
of  Lords  of  the  Treasury  who  did  not  know  the 
difference  between  funded  and  unfunded  debt, 
and  of  Secretaries  of  the  India  Board  who  did 
not  know  whether  the  Mahrattas  were  Ma- 
hometans or  Hindoos.  On  these  grounds, 
some  persons,  incapable  of  seeing  more  than 
one  side  of  a question,  have  pronounced  par- 
liamentary government  a positive  evil,  and 
have  maintained  that  the  administration  would 
be  greatly  improved  if  the  power,  now  exercised 
by  a large  assembly,  were  transferred  to  a 
single  person.  Men  of  sense  will  probably 
think  the  remedy  very  much  worse  than  the 
disease,  and  will  be  of  opinion  that  there  would 
be  small  gain  in  exchanging  Charles  Towns- 
hend  and  Windham  for  the  Prince  of  the  Peace, 
or  the  poor  slave  and  dog  Steenie. 

Pitt  was  emphatically  the  man  of  parliamen- 
tary government,  the  type  of  his  class,  the 
minion,  the  child,  the  spoiled  child,  of  the 
House  of  Commons.  For  the  House  of  Com- 
mons he  had  a hereditary,  an  infantine  love. 
Through  his  whole  boyhood,  the  House  of  Com- 
mons was  never  out  of  his  thoughts,  or  out  of 
the  thoughts  of  his  instructors.  Reciting  at 
his  father’s  knee,  reading  Thucydides  and 
Cicero  into  English,  analyzing  the  great  Attic 
speeches  on  the  Embassy  and  on  the  Crown, 
he  was  constantly  in  training  for  the  conflicts 
of  the  House  of  Commons.  He  was  a dis- 
tinguished member  of  the  House  of  Commons 
at  twenty-one.  The  ability  which  he  had  dis- 
played in  the  House  of  Commons  made  him 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


321 


the  most  powerful  subject  in  Europe  before  he 
was  twenty-five.  It  would  have  been  happy 
for  himself  and  for  his  country  if  his  elevation 
had  been  deferred.  Eight  or  ten  years,  during 
which  he  would  have  had  leisure  and  oppor- 
tunity for  reading  and  reflection,  for  foreign 
travel,  for  social  intercourse  and  free  exchange 
of  thought  on  equal  terms  with  a great  variety 
of  companions,  would  have  supplied  what, 
without  any  fault  on  his  part,  was  wanting  to 
his  powerful  intellect.  He  had  all  the  knowl- 
edge that  he  could  be  expected  to  have  ; that 
is  to  say,  all  the  knowledge  that  a man  can  ac- 
quire while  he  is  a student  at  Cambridge,  and 
all  the  knowledge  that  a man  can  acquire  When 
he  is  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  and  Chancel- 
lor of  the  Exchequer.  But  the  stock  of  general 
information  which  he  brought  from  college, 
extraordinary  for  a boy,  was  far  inferior  to  what 
Fox  possessed,  and  beggarly  when  compared 
with  the  massy,  the  splendid,  the  various 
treasures  laid  up  in  the  large  mind  of  Burke. 
After  Pitt  became  minister,  he  had  no  leisure 
to  learn  more  than  was  necessary  for  the  pur- 
poses of  the  day  which  was  passing  over  him. 
What  was  necessary  for  those  purposes  such  a 
man  could  learn  with  little  difficulty.  He 
was  surrounded  by  experienced  and  able  public 
servants.  He  could  at  any  moment  command 
their  best  assistance.  From  the  stores  which 
they  produced  his  vigorous  mind  rapidly  col- 
lected the  materials  for  a good  parliamentary 
case  : and  that  was  enough.  Legislation  and 
administration  were  with  him  secondary  mat- 
ters. To  the  work  of  framing  statutes,  of 
negotiating  treaties,  of  organizing  fleets  and 
armies,  of  sending  forth  expeditions,  he  gave 
only  the  leavings  of  his  time  and  the  dregs  of 
his  fine  intellect.  The  strength  and  sap  of  his 
mind  were  all  drawn  in  a different  direction. 
It  was  when  the  House  of  Commons  was  to  be 
convinced  and  persuaded  that  he  put  forth  all 
his  powers. 


322 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


Of  those  powers  we  must  form  our  estimate 
chiefly  from  tradition  ; for  of  all  the  eminent 
speakers  of  the  last  age  Pitt  has  suffered  most 
from  the  reporters.  Even  while  he  was  still 
living,  critics  remarked  that  his  eloquence  could 
not  be  preserved,  that  he  must  be  heard  to  be 
appreciated.  They  more  than  once  applied 
to  him  the  sentence  in  which  Tacitus  describes 
the  fate  of  a senator  whose  rhetoric  was  ad- 
mired in  the  Augustan  age  : “ Haterii  canorum 
illud  et  profluens  cum  ipso  simul  exstinctum 
est.”  There  is,  however,  abundant  evidence 
that  nature  had  bestowed  on  Pitt  the  talents 
of  a great  orator;  and  those  talents  had  been 
developed  in  a very  peculiar  manner,  first  by 
his  education,  and  secondly  by  the  high  official 
position  to  which  he  rose  early,  and  in  which 
he  passed  the  greater  part  of  his  public  life. 

At  his  first  appearance  in  Parliament  he 
showed  himself  superior  to  all  his  contempo- 
raries in  command  of  language.  He  could 
pour  forth  a long  succession  of  round  and 
stately  periods  without  premeditation,  without 
ever  pausing  for  a word,  without  ever  repeating 
a word,  in  a voice  of  silver  clearness,  and  with 
a pronunciation  so  articulate  that  not  a letter 
was  slurred  over.  He  had  less  amplitude  of 
mind  and  less  richness  of  imagination  than 
Burke,  less  ingenuity  than  Windham,  less  wit 
than  Sheridan,  less  perfect  mastery  of  dialecti- 
cal fence,  and  less  of  that  highest  sort  of 
eloquence  which  consists  of  reason  and  passion 
fused  together,  than  Fox.  Yet  the  almost  un- 
animous judgment  of  those  who  were  in  the 
habit  of  listening  to  that  remarkable  race  of 
men  placed  Pitt,  as  a speaker,  above  Burke, 
above  Windham,  above  Sheridan,  and  not  be- 
low Fox.  His  declamation  was  copious, 
polished,  and  splendid.  In  power  of  sarcasm 
he  was  probably  not  surpassed  by  any  speaker, 
ancient  or  modern  ; and  of  this  formidable 
weapon  he  made  merciless  use.  In  two  parts 
of  the  ora.orical  art  which  are  of  the  highest 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


323 


value  to  a minister  of  state  he  was  singularly 
expert.  No  man  knew  better  how  to  be 
luminous  or  how  to  be  obscure.  When  he 
wished  to  be  understood,  he  never  failed  to 
make  himself  understood,  He  could  with  ease 
present  to  his  audience,  not  perhaps  an  exact 
or  profound,  but  a clear,  popular,  and  plausi- 
ble view  of  the  most  extensive  and  compli- 
cated subject.  Nothing  was  out  of  place ; 
nothing  was  forgotten  ; minute  details,  dates, 
sums  of  money,  -were  all  faithfully  preserved 
in  his  memory.  Even  intricate  questions  of 
finance,  when  explained  by  him,  seemed  clear 
to  the  plainest  man  among  his  hearers.  On 
the  other  hand,  when  he  did  not  wish  to  be 
explicit, — and  no  man  who  is  at  the  head  of 
affairs  always  wishes  to  be  explicit, — he  had  a 
marvellous  power  of  saying  nothing  in  language 
which  left  on  his  audience  the  impression  that 
he  had  said  a great  deal.  He  was  at  once 
the  only  man  who  could  open  a budget  without 
notes,  and  the  only  man  who,  as  Windham 
said,  could  speak  that  most  elaborately  evasive 
and  unmeaning  of  human  compositions,  a 
King’s  speech,  without  premeditation. 

The  effect  of  oratory  will  always  to  a great 
extent  depend  on  the  character  of  the  orator. 
There  perhaps  never  were  two  speakers  whose 
eloquence  had  more  of  what  may  be  called  the 
race,  more  of  the  flavor  imparted  by  moral 
qualities,  than  Fox  and  Pitt.  The  speeches  of 
Fox  owe  a great  part  of  their  charm  to  that 
warmth  and  softness  of  heart,  that  sympathy 
with  human  suffering,  that  admiration  for 
everything  great  and  beautiful,  and  that  hatred 
of  cruelty  and  injustice,  which  interest  and 
delight  us  even  in  the  most  defective  reports. 
No  person,  on  the  other  hand,  could  hear  Pitt 
without  perceiving  him  to  be  a man  of  high, 
intrepid,  and  commanding  spirit,  proudly  con- 
scious of  his  own  rectitude  and  of  his  own  intel- 
lectual superiority,  incapable  of  the  low  vices 
of  fear  and  envy,  but  too  prone  to  feel  and  to. 


324  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

show  disdain.  Pride,  indeed,  pervaded  the 
whole  man,  was  written  in  the  harsh,  rigid 
lines  of  his  face,  was  marked  by  the  way  in 
which  he  walked,  in  which  he  sate,  in  which  he 
stood,  and,  above  all,  in  which  he  bowed. 
Such  pride,  of  course,  inflicted  many  wounds. 
It  may  confidently  be  affirmed  that  there  can- 
not be  found,  in  all  the  ten  thousand  invectives 
written  against  Fox,  a word  indicating  that  his 
demeanor  had  ever  made  a single  personal 
enemy.  On  the  other  hand,  several  men  of 
note  who  had  been  partial  to  Pitt,  and  who  to 
the  last  continued  to  approve  his  public  con- 
duct and  to  support  his  administration,  Cum- 
berland, for  example,  Boswell,  and  Matthias, 
were  so  much  irritated,  by  the  contempt  with 
which  he  treated  them,  that  they  complained 
in  print  of  their  wrongs.  But  his  pride, 
though  it  made  him  bitterly  disliked  by  individ- 
uals, inspired  the  great  body  of  'his  followers 
in  Parliament  and  throughout  the  country  with 
respect  and  confidence.  They  took  him  at 
his  own  valuation.  They  saw  that  his  self- 
esteem was  not  that  of  an  upstart,  who  was 
drunk  with  good  luck  and  with  applause,  and 
who,  if  fortune  turned,  wonld  sink  from  arro- 
gance into  abject  humility.  It  was  that  of  the 
magnanimous  man  so  finely  described  by  Aris- 
totle in  the  Ethics,  of  the  man  who  thinks  him- 
self worthy  of  great  things,  being  in  truth  wor- 
thy. It  sprang  from  a consciousness  of  great 
powers  and  great  virtues,  and  was  never  so 
conspicuously  displayed  as  in  the  midst  of 
difficulties  and  dangers  which  would  have  un- 
nerved and  bowed  bown  any  ordinary  mind. 
It  was  closely  connected,  too,  with  an  ambi- 
tion which  had  no  mixture  of  low  cupidity. 
There  was  something  noble  in  the  cynical  dis- 
dain with  which  the  mighty  minister  scattered 
riches  and  titles  to  right  and  left  among  those 
who  valued  them,  while  he  spurned  them  out 
of  his  own  way.  Poor  himself,  he  was  sur- 
rounded by  friends  on  whom  he  had  bestowed 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


325 

three  thousand,  six  thousand,  ten  thousand  a 
year.  Plain  Mister  himself,  he  had  made 
more  lords  than  any  three  ministers  that  had 
preceded  him.  The  garter,  for  which  the 
first  dukes  in  the  kingdom  were  contending, 
was  repeatedly  offered  to  him,  and  offered  in 
vain. 

The  correctness  of  his  private  life  added 
much  to  the  dignity  of  his  public  character. 
In  the  relations  of  son,  brother,  uncle,  master, 
friend,  his  conduct  was  exemplary.  In  the 
small  circle  of  his  intimate  associates,  he  was 
amiable,  affectionate,  even  playful.  They 
loved  him  sincerely  ; they  regretted  him  long 
and  they  would  hardly  admit  that  he  who  was 
so  kind  and  gentle  with  them  could  be  stern 
and  haughty  with  others.  He  indulged,  indeed, 
somewhat  too  freely  in  wine,  which  he  had 
early  been  directed  to  take  as  a medicine,  and 
which  use  had  made  a necessary  of  life  to  him. 
But  it  was  very  seldom  that  any  indication  of 
undue  excess  could  be  detected  in  his  tones  or 
gestures  ; and,  in  truth,  two  bottles  of  port  were 
little  more  to  him  than  two  dishes  of  tea.  He 
had,  when  he  was  first  introduced  into  the 
clubs  of  Saint  James’s  Street,  shown  a strong 
taste  for  play ; but  he  had  the  prudence  and 
the  resolution  to  stop  before  this  taste  had  ac- 
quired the  strength  of  habit.  From  the  passion 
which  generally  exercises  the  most  tyrannical 
dominion  over  the  young  he  possessed  an  im- 
munity, which  is  probably  to  be  ascribed  partly  to 
his  temperament  and  partly  to  his  situation.  His 
constitution  was  feeble  ; he  was  very  shy ; and 
he  was  very  busy.  The  strictness  of  his  mor- 
als furnished  such  buffoons  as  Peter  Pindar 
and  Captain  Morris  with  an  inexhaustible  theme 
for  merriment  of  no  very  delicate  kind.  But 
the  great  body  of  the  middle  class  of  English- 
men could  not  see  the  joke.  They  warmly 
praised  the  young  statesman  for  commanding 
his  passions,  and  for  covering  his  frailties, 
if  he  had  frailties,  with  decorous  obscurity, 


BIO G BA miC A L ESSAYS. 


326 

and  would  have  been  very  far  indeed  from 
thinking  better  of  him  if  he  had  vindicated 
himself  from  the  taunts  of  his  enemies  by  tak- 
ing under  his  protection  a Nancy  Parsons  or  a 
Marianne  Clark. 

No  part  of  the  immense  popularity  which 
Pitt  long  enjoyed  is  to  be  attributed  to  the 
eulogies  of  wits  and  poets.  It  might  have  been 
naturally  expected  that  a man  of  genius,  of 
learning,  of  taste,  an  orator  whose  diction  was 
often  compared  to  that  of  Tully,  the  repre- 
sentative, too,  of  a great  university,  would  have 
taken  a peculiar  pleasure  in  befriending  emi- 
nent writers,  to  whatever  political  party  they 
might  have  belonged.  The  love  of  literature 
had  induced  Augustus  to  heap  benefits  on 
Pompeians,  Somers  to  be  the  protector  of  non- 
jurors, Harley  to  make  the  fortunes  of  Whigs. 
But  it  could  not  move  Pitt  to  show  any  favor 
even  to  Pittites.  He  was  doubtless  right  in 
thinking  that,  in  general,  poetry,  history  and 
philosophy  ought  to  be  suffered,  like  calico 
and  cutlery,  to  find  their  proper  price  in  the 
market,  and  that  to  teach  men  of  letters 
to  look  habitually  to  the  state  for  their 
recompense  is  bad  for  the  state  and  bad 
for  letters.  Assuredly  nothing  can  be  more 
absurd  or  mischievous  than  to  waste  the  public 
money  in  bounties  for  the  purpose  of  inducing 
people  who  ought  to  be  weighing  out  grocery 
or  measuring  out  drapery  to  write  bad  or  mid- 
dling books.  But,  though  the  sound  rule  is 
that  authors  should  be  left  to  be  remunerated 
by  their  readers,  there  will,  in  every  genera- 
tion, be  a few  exceptions  to  this  rule.  To  dis- 
tinguish these  special  cases  from  the  mass  is 
an  employment  well  worthy  of  the  faculties  of 
a great  and  accomplished  ruler  ; and  Pitt  would 
assuredly  have  had  little  difficulty  in  finding 
such  cases.  While  he  was  in  power,  the  great- 
est philologist  of  the  age,  his  own  contemporary 
at  Cambridge,  was  reduced  to  earn  a livelihood 
by  the  lowest  literary  drudgery,  and  spend  in 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


327 


writing  squibs  for  the  Morning  Chronicle  years 
to  which  we  might  have  owed  an  all  but  perfect 
text  of  the  whole  tragic  and  comic  drama  of 
Athens.  The  greatest  historian  of  the  age, 
forced  by  poverty  to  leave  his  country,  com- 
pleted his  immortal  work  on  the  shores  of  Lake 
Leman.  The  political  heterodoxy  of  Porson, 
and  the  religious  heterodoxy  of  Gibbon,  may 
perhaps  be  pleaded  in  defence  of  the  minister 
by  whom  those  eminent  men  were  neglected. 
But  there  were  other  cases  in  which  no  such  ex- 
cuse could  be  set  up.  Scarcely  had  Pitt  obtained 
possession  of  unbounded  power  when  an  aged 
writer  of  the  highest  eminence,  who  had  made 
very  little  by  his  writings,  and  who  was  sinking 
into  the  grave  under  a load  of  infirmities  and 
sorrows,  wanted  five  or  six  hundred  pounds  to 
enable  him,  during  the  winter  or  two  which 
might  still  remain  to  him,  to  draw  his  breath 
more  easily  in  the  soft  climate  of  Italy.  Not  a 
farthing  was  to  be  obtained  ; and  before  Christ- 
mas the  author  of  the  English  Dictionary  and 
of  the  Lives  of  the  Poets  had  gasped  his  last  in 
the  river  fog  and  coal  smoke  of  Fleet  Street. 
A few  months  after  the  death  of  Johnson  ap- 
peared the  Task,  incomparably  the  best  poem 
that  any  Englishman  then  living  had  produced 
— a poem,  too,  which  could  hardly  fail  to  excite 
in  a well  constituted  mind  a feeling  of  esteem 
and  compassion  for  the  poet,  a man  of  genius 
and  virtue,  whose  means  were  scanty,  and 
whom  the  most  cruel  of  all  the  calamities  inci- 
dent to  humanity  had  made  incapable  of  sup- 
porting himself  by  vigorous  and  sustained  ex- 
ertion. Nowhere  had  Chatham  been  praised 
with  more  enthusiasm,  or  in  verse  more  worthy 
of  the  subject,  than  in  the  Task.  The  son  of 
Chatham,  however,  contented  himself  with 
reading  and  admiring  the  book,  and  left  the 
author  to  starve.  The  pension  which,  long 
after,  enabled  poor  Cowper  to  close  his  melan- 
choly life,  unmolested  by  duns  and  bailiffs, 
was  obtained  for  him  by  the  strenuous  kindness 


32g  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

of  Lord  Spencer.  What  a contrast  between 
the  way  in  which  Pitt  acted  towards  Johnson 
and  the  way  in  which  Lord  Grey  acted  towards 
his  political  enemy  Scott,  when  Scott,  worn  out 
by  misfortune  and  disease,  was  advised  to  try 
the  effect  of  the  Italian  air!  What  a contrast 
between  the  way  in  which  Pitt  acted  towards 
Cowper  and  the  way  in  which  Burke,  a poor 
man  and  out  of  place,  acted  towards  Crabbe  ! 
Even  Dundas,  who  made  no  pretensions  to  lit- 
erary taste,  and  was  content  to  be  considered 
as  a hard-headed  and  somewhat  coarse  man  of 
business,  was,  when  compared  with  his  eloquent 
and  classically  educated  friend,  a Maecenas  or 
a Leo.  Dundas  made  Burns  an  exciseman, 
with  seventy  pounds  a year  ; and  this  was  more 
than  Pitt,  during  his  long  tenure  of  power,  did 
for  the  encouragement  of  letters.  Even  those 
who  may  think  that  it  is,  in  general,  no  part  of 
the  duty  of  a government  to  reward  literary 
merit  will  hardly  deny  that  a government,  which 
has  much  lucrative  church  preferment  in  its  gift, 
is  bound,  in  distributing  that  preferment,  not  to 
overlook  divines  whose  writings  have  rendered 
great  service  to  the  cause  of  religion.  But  it 
seems  never  to  have  occurred  to  Pitt  that  he 
lay  under  any  such  obligation.  All  the  theo- 
logical works  of  all  the  numerous  bishops 
whom  he  made  and  translated  are  not,  when 
put  together,  worth  fifty  pages  of  the  Horae 
Paulinas,  of  the  Natural  Theology,  or  of  the 
View  of  the  Evidences  of  Christianity.  But  on 
Paley  the  all-powerful  minister  never  bestowed 
the  smallest  benefice.  Artists  Pitt  treated  as 
contemptuously  as  writers.  For  painting  he 
did  simply  nothing.  Sculptors,  who  had  been 
selected  to  execute  monuments  voted  by  Par- 
liament, had  to  haunt  the  ante-chambers  of  the 
Treasury  during  many  years  before  they  could 
obtain  a farthing  from  him.  One  of  them, 
after  vainly  soliciting  the  minister  for  payment 
during  fourteen  years,  had  the  courage  to  pre- 
sent a memorial  to  the  King,  and  thus  obtained 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


3 29 

tardy  and  ungracious  justice.  Architects  it 
was  absolutely  necessary  to  employ ; and  the 
worst  that  could  be  found  seem  to  have  been 
employed.  Not  a single  fine  public  building  of 
any  kind  or  in  any  style  was  erected  during  his 
long  administration.  It  may  be  confidently 
affirmed  that  no  ruler  whose  abilities  and  at- 
tainments would  bear  any  comparison  with  his 
has  ever  shown  such  cold  disdain  for  what  is 
excellent  in  arts  and  letters. 

His  first  administration  lasted  seventeen 
years.  That  long  period  is  divided  by  a 
strongly  marked  line  into  two  almost  exactly 
equal  parts.  The  first  part  ended  and  the  sec- 
ond began  in  the  autumn  of  1792.  Through- 
out both  parts  Pitt  displayed  in  the  highest 
degree  the  talents  of  a parliamentary  leader. 
During  the  first  part  he  was  a fortunate  and, 
in  many  respects,  a skilful  administrator. 
With  the  difficulties  which  he  had  to  encounter 
during  the  second  part  he  was  altogether  inca- 
pable of  contending  ; but  his  eloquence  and  his 
perfect  mastery  of  the  tactics  of  the  House  of 
Commons  concealed  his  incapacity  from  the 
multitude. 

The  eight  years  which  followed  the  general 
election  of  1784  were  as  tranquil  and  prosper- 
ous as  any  eight  years  in  the  whole  history  of 
England.  Neighboring  nations  which  had  lately 
been  in  arms  against  her,  and  which  had  flat- 
tered themselves  that  in  losing  her  American 
colonies,  she  had  lost  a chief  source  of  her 
wealth  and  of  her  power,  saw  with  wonder  and 
vexation,  that  she  was  more  wealthy  and  more 
powerful  than  ever.  Her  trade  increased. 
Her  manufactures  flourished.  Her  exchequer 
was  full  to  overflowing.  Very  idle  apprehen- 
sions were  generally  entertained,  that  the  pub- 
lic debt,  though  much  less  than  a third  of  the 
debt  which  we  now  bear  with  ease,  would  be 
found  too  heavy  for  the  strength  of  the  nation. 
Those  apprehensions  might  not  perhaps  have 
been  easily  quieted  by  reason.  But  Pitt  qui- 


33° 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


eted  them  by  a juggle.  He  succeeded  in  per* 
suading  first  himself,  and  then  the  whole  na- 
tion, his  opponents  included,  that  a new  sink- 
ing fund,  which,  so  far  as  it  differed  from 
former  sinking  funds,  differed  for  the  worse, 
would,  by  virtue  of  some  mysterious  power  of 
propagation  belonging  to  money,  put  into  the 
pocket  of  the  public  creditor  great  sums  not 
taken  out  of  the  pocket  of  the  tax-payer.  The 
country,  terrified  by  a danger  which  was  no 
danger,  hailed  with  delight  and  boundless  con- 
fidence a remedy  which  was  no  remedy.  The 
minister  was  almost  universally  extolled  as  the 
greatest  of  financiers.  Meanwhile  both  the 
branches  of  the  House  of  Bourbon  found  that 
England  was  as  formidable  an  antagonist  as 
she  had  ever  been.  France  had  formed  a plan 
for  reducing  Holland  to  vassalage.  But  Eng- 
land interposed  ; and  France  receded.  Spain 
interrupted  by  violence  the  trade  of  our  mer- 
chants with  the  regions  near  the  Oregon.  But 
England  armed ; and  Spain  receded.  Within 
the  island  there  was  profound  tranquillity. 
The  King  was,  for  the  first  time,  popular. 
During  the  twenty-three  years  which  had  fol- 
lowed his  accession  he  had  not  been  loved  by 
his  subjects.  His  domestic  virtues  were  ac- 
knowledged. But  it  was  generally  thought 
that  the  good  qualities  by  which  he  was  dis- 
tinguished in  private  life  were  wanting  to  his 
political  character.  As  a Sovereign,  he  was 
resentful,  unforgiving,  stubborn,  cunning.  Un- 
der his  rule  the  country  had  sustained  cruel 
disgraces  and  disasters;  and  every  one  of 
those  disgraces  and  disasters  was  imputed  to 
his  strong  antipathies,  and  to  his  perverse  ob- 
stinacy in  the  wrong.  One  statesman  after 
another  complained  that  he  had  been  induced 
by  royal  caresses,  entreaties,  and  promises,  to 
undertake  the  direction  of  affairs  at  a difficult 
conjuncture,  and  that,  as  soon  as  he  had,  not 
without  sullying  his  fame  and  alienating  his 
best  friends,  served  the  turn  for  which  he  was 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


331 


wanted,  his  ungrateful  master  began  to  in- 
trigue against  him,  and  to  canvass  against  him. 
Grenville,  Rockingham,  Chatham,  men  of 
widely  different  characters,  but  all  three  up- 
right and  high-spirited,  agreed  in  thinking  that 
the  Prince  under  whom  they  had  successively 
held  the  highest  place  in  the  government  was 
one  of  the  most  insincere  of  mankind.  His 
confidence  was  reposed,  they  said,  not  in  those 
known  and  responsible  counsellors  to  whom  he 
had  delivered  the  seals  of  office,  but  in  secret 
advisers  who  stole  up  the  back  stairs  into  his 
closet.  In  Parliament,  his  ministers,  while  de- 
fending themselves  against  the  attacks  of  the 
opposition  in  front,  were  perpetually,  at  his  in- 
stigation, assailed  on  the  flank  or  in  the  rear 
by  a vile  band  of  mercenaries  who  called 
themselves  his  friends.  These  men  constantly, 
while  in  possession  of  lucrative  places  in  his 
service,  spoke  and  voted  against  bills  which  he 
had  authorized  the  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury 
or  the  Secretary  of  State  to  bring  in.  Eut 
from  the  day  on  which  Pitt  was  placed  at  the 
head  of  affairs  there  was  an  end  of  secret  in- 
fluence. His  haughty  and  aspiring  spirit  was 
not  to  be  satisfied  with  the  mere  show  of 
power.  Any  attempt  to  undermine  him  at 
Court,  any  mutinous  movement  among  his  fol- 
lowers in  the  House  of  Commons,  was  certain 
to  be  at  once  put  doum.  He  had  only  to  ten- 
der his  resignation  ; and  he  could  dictate  his 
own  terms.  For  he,  and  he  alone,  stood  be- 
tween the  King  and  the  Coalition.  He  w-as 
therefore  little  less  than  Mayor  of  the  Palace. 
The  nation  loudly  applauded  the  King  for 
having  the  wdsdom  to  repose  entire  confidence 
in  so  excellent  a minister.  His  majesty’s  pri- 
vate virtues  now  began  to  produce  their  full 
effect.  He  v’as  generally  regarded  as  the 
model  of  a respectable  country  gentleman, 
honest,  good-natured,  sober,  religious.  He 
rose  early;  he  dined  temperately;  he  was 
strictly  faithful  to  his  wife ; he  never  missed 


332 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


church  ; and  at  church  he  never  missed  a re- 
sponse. His  people  heartily  prayed  that  he 
might  long  reign  over  them  ; and  they  prayed 
the  more  heartily  because  his  virtues  were  set 
off  to  the  best  advantage  by  the  vices  and  fol- 
lies of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  lived  in  close 
intimacy  with  the  chiefs  of  the  opposition. 

How  strong  this  feeling  was  in  the  public 
mind  appeared  signally  on  one  great  occasion. 
In  the  autumn  of  1788  the  King  became  in- 
sane. The  opposition,  eager  for  office,  com- 
mitted the  great  indiscretion  of  asserting  that 
the  heir  apparent  had,  by  the  fundamental 
laws  of  England  a right  to  be  Regent  with  the 
full  powers  of  royalty.  Pitt  on  the  other  hand, 
maintained  it  to  be  the  constitutional  doctrine 
that,  when  a Sovereign  is,  by  reason  of  infancy, 
disease,  or  absence,  incapable  of  exercising 
the  regal  functions,  it  belongs  to  the  estates 
of  the  realm  to  determine  who  shall  be  the 
vicegerent,  and  with  what  portion  of  the  execu- 
tive authority  such  vicegerent  shall  be  entrust- 
ed. A long  and  violent  contest  followed,  in 
which  Pitt  was  supported  by  the  great  body  of 
the  people  with  as  much  enthusiasm  as  during 
the  first  months  of  his  adminstration.  Tories 
with  one  voice  applauded  him  for  defending 
the  sick-bed  of  a virtuous  and  unhappy 
Sovereign  against  a disloyal  faction  and  an 
undutiful  son.  Not  a few  Whigs  applauded 
him  for  asserting  the  authority  of  Parliaments 
and  the  principles  of  the  Revolution,  in  opposi- 
tion to  a doctrine  which  seemed  to  have  too 
much  affinity  with  the  servile  theory  of  inde- 
feasible hereditary  right.  The  middle  class, 
always  zealous  on  the  side  of  decency  and  the 
domestic  virtues,  looked  forward  with  dismay 
to  a reign  resembling  that  of  Charles  II.  The 
palace,  which  had  now  been,  during  thirty 
years,  the  pattern  of  an  English  home,  would 
be  a public  nuisance,  a school  of  profligacy. 
To  the  good  King’s  repast  of  mutton  and 
lemonade,  despatched  at  three  o’clock,  would 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


333 


succeed  midnight  banquets,  from  which  the 
guests  would  be  carried  home  speechless.  To 
the  backgammon  board  at  which  the  good 
King  played  for  a little  silver  with  his  equerries, 
would  succeed  faro  tables  from  which  young 
patricians  who  had  sate  down  rich  would  rise 
up  beggars.  The  drawing-room,  from  which 
the  frown  of  the  Queen  had  repelled  a whole 
generation  of  frail  beauties,  would  now  be 
again  what  it  had  been  in  the  days  of  Barbara 
Palmer  and  Louisa  de  Querouaille.  Nay, 
severely  as  the  public  reprobated  the  Prince’s 
many  illicit  attachments,  his  one  virtuous  at- 
tachment was  reprobated  more  severely  still. 
Even  in  grave  and  pious  circles  his  Protestant 
mistresses  gave  less  scandal  than  his  Popish 
wife.  That  he  must  be  Regent  nobody  ventured 
to  deny.  But  he  and  his  friends  were  so  un- 
popular that  Pitt  could,  with  general  approba- 
tion, propose  to  limit  the  powers  of  the  Regent 
by  restrictions  which  it  would  have  been  im- 
possible to  subject  a Prince  beloved  and 
trusted  by  the  country.  Some  interested  men, 
fully  expecting  a change  of  administration, 
went  over  to  the  opposition.  But  the  majority, 
purified  by  these  desertions,  closed  its  ranks, 
and  presented  a more  firm  array  then  ever  to 
the  enemy.  In  every  division  Pitt  was  victo- 
rious. When  at  length,  after  a stormy  inter- 
regnum of  three  months,  it  was  announced,  on 
the  very  eve  of  the  inauguration  of  the  Regent, 
that  the  King  was  himself  again,  the  nation 
was  wild  with  delight.  On  the  evening  of  the 
day  on  which  His  Majesty  resumed  his  func- 
tions, a spontaneous  illumination,  the  most 
general  that  had  ever  been  seen  in  England, 
brightened  the  whole  vast  space  from  High- 
gate  to  Tooting,  and  from  Hammersmith  to 
Greenwich.  On  the  day  on  which  he  returned 
thanks  in  the  cathedral  of  his  capital,  all  the 
horses  and  carriages  within  a hundred  miles 
of  London  were  too  few  for  the  multitudes 
which  flocked  to  see  him  pass  through  thf 


334 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


streets.  A second  illumination  followed,  which 
was  even  superior  to  the  first  magnificence. 
Pitt  with  difficulty  escaped  from  the  tumultuous 
kindness  of  an  innumerable  multitude  which 
insisted  on  drawing  his  coach  from  Saint 
Paul’s  Churchyard  to  Downing  Street.  This 
was  the  moment  at  which  his  fame  and  for- 
tune may  be  said  to  have  reached  the  zenith. 
His  influence  in  the  closet  was  as  great  as 
that  of  Carr  or  Villiers  had  been.  His  domin- 
ion over  the  Parliament  was  more  absolute 
than  that  of  Walpole  or  Pelham  had  been. 
He  was  at  the  same  time  as  high  in  the  favor 
of  the  populace  as  ever  Wilkes  or  Sacheverell 
had  been.  Nothing  did  more  to  raise  his 
character  than  his  noble  poverty.  It  was  well 
known  that,  if  he  had  been  dismissed  from 
office  after  more  than  five  years  of  boundless 
power,  he  would  hardly  have  carried  out  with 
him  a sum  sufficient  to  furnish  the  set  of  cham- 
ber in  which,  as  he  cheerfully  declared,  he 
meant  to  resume  the  practice  of  the  law.  His 
admirers,  however,  were  by  no  means  dis- 
posed to  suffer  him  to  depend  on  daily  toil  for 
his  daily  bread.  The  voluntary  contributions 
which  were  awaiting  his  acceptance  in  the  city 
of  London  alone  would  have  sufficed  to  make 
him  a rich  man.  But  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  his  haughty  spirit  would  have  stooped 
to  accept  a provision  so  honorably  earned  and 
so  honorably  bestowed. 

To  such  a height  of  power  and  glory  had 
this  extraordinary  man  risen  at  twenty-nine 
years  of  age.  And  now  the  tide  was  on  the 
turn.  Only  ten  days  after  the  triumphant  pro- 
cession to  Saint  Paul’s,  the  States-General  of 
France,  after  an  interval  of  a hundred  and 
seventy-four  years,  met  at  Versailles. 

The  nature  of  the  great  Revolution  which 
followed  was  long  very  imperfectly  understood 
in  this  country.  Burke  saw  much  further  than 
any  of  his  contemporaries  : but  whatever  his 
sagacity  descried  was  refracted  and  discolored 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


335 


by  his  passions  and  his  imagination.  More 
than  three  years  elapsed  before  the  principles 
of  the  English  administration  underwent  any 
material  change.  Nothing  could  as  yet  be 
milder  or  more  strictly  constitutional  than  the 
minister’s  domestic  policy.  Not  a single  act 
indicating  an  arbitrary  temper  or  a jealousy  of 
the  people  could  be  imputed  to  him.  He  had 
never  applied  to  Parliament  for  any  extraordi- 
nary powers.  He  had  never  used  with  harsh- 
ness the  ordinary  powers  entrusted  by  the  con- 
stitution to  the  executive  government.  Not  a 
single  state  prosecution  which  would  even  now 
be  called  oppressive  had  been  instituted  by 
him.  Indeed,  the  only  oppressive  state  prose- 
cution instituted  during  the  first  eight  years  of 
his  administration  was  that  of  Stockdale,  which 
is  to  be  attributed,  not  to  the  "government,  but 
to  the  chiefs  of  the  opposition.  In  office,  Pitt 
had  redeemed  the  pledges  which  he  had,  at 
his  entrance  into  public  life,  given  to  the  sup- 
porters of  parliamentary  reform.  He  had,  in 
1785,  brought  forward  a judicious  plan  for  the 
improvement  of  the  representative  system,  and 
had  prevailed  on  the  King,  not  only  to  refrain 
from  talking  against  that  plan,  but  to  recom- 
mend it  to  the  Houses  in  a speech  from  the 
throne.*  This  attempt  failed  ; but  there  can 
be  little  doubt  that,  if  the  French  Revolution 
had  not  produced  a violent  reaction  of  public 
feeling,  Pitt  would  have  performed,  with  little 
difficulty  and  no  danger,  that  great  work  which, 
at  a later  period,  Lord  Grey  could  accomplish 
only  by  means  which  for  a time  loosened  the 
very  foundations  of  the  commonwealth.  When 
the  atrocities  of  the  slave  trade  were  first 
brought  under  the  consideration  of  Parliament, 

‘The  speech  with  which  the  King  opened  the  ses- 
sion of  1785  concluded  with  an  assurance  that  His 
Majesty  would  heartily  concur  in  every  measure  which 
could  tend  to  secure  the  true  principles  of  the  consti- 
tution. These  words  were  at  the  time  understood  to 
refer  to  Pitt’s  Reform  Bill. 


336  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

no  abolitionist  was  more  zealous  than  Pitt. 
When  sickness  prevented  Wilberforce  from  ap- 
pearing  in  public,  his  place  was  most  efficiently 
supplied  by  his  friend  the  minister.  A humane 
bill,  which  mitigated  the  horrors  of  the  middle 
passage,  was,  in  1788,  carried  by  the  eloquence 
and  determined  spirit  of  Pitt,  in  spite  of  the 
opposition  of  some  of  his  own  colleagues ; 
and  it  ought  always  to  be  remembered  to  his 
honor  that,  in  order  to  carry  that  bill,  he  kept 
the  Houses  sitting,  in  spite  of  many  murmurs, 
long  after  the  business  of  the  government  had 
been  done,  and  the  Appropriation  Act  passed. 
In  1791  he  cordially  concurred  with  Fox  in 
maintaining  the  sound  constitutional  doctrine, 
that  an  impeachment  is  not  terminated  by  a 
dissolution.  In  the  course  of  the  same  year 
the  two  great  rivals  contended  side  by  side  in 
a far  more  important  cause.  They  are  fairly 
entitled  to  divide  the  high  honor  of  having 
added  to  our  statute-book  the  inestimable  law 
which  places  the  liberty  of  the  press  under  the 
protection  of  juries.  On  one  occasion,  and 
one  alone,  Pitt,  during  the  first  half  of  his  long 
administration,  acted  in  a manner  unworthy  of 
an  enlightened  Whig.  In  the  debate  on  the 
Test  Act,  he  stooped  to  gratify  the  master 
whom  he  served,  the  university  which  he  rep- 
resented, and  the  great  body  of  clergymen 
and  country  gentlemen  on  whose  support  he 
rested,  by  talking,  with  little  heartiness,  indeed, 
and  no  asperity,  the  language  of  a Tory.  With 
this  single  exception,  his  conduct  from  the  end 
of  1783  to  the  middle  of  1792  was  that  of  an 
honest  friend  of  civil  and  religious  liberty. 

Nor  did  anything,  during  that  period,  indicate 
that  he  loved  war,  or  harbored  any  malevolent 
feeling  against  any  neighboring  nation.  Those 
French  writers  who  have  represented  him  as  a 
Hannibal  sworn  in  childhood  by  his  father  to 
bear  eternal  hatred  to  France,  as  having,  by 
mysterious  intrigues  and  lavish  bribes,  insti- 
gated the  leading  Jacobins  to  commit  those 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


337 


excesses  which  dishonored  the  Revolution,  as 
having  been  the  real  author  of  the  first  coali- 
tion, know  nothing  of  his  character  or  of  his 
history.  So  far  was  he  from  being  a deadly 
enemy  to  France,  that  his  laudible  attempts  to 
bring  about  a closer  conncection  with  that 
country  by  means  of  a wise  and  liberal  treaty 
of  commerce  brought  on  him  the  severe  censure 
of  the  opposition.  He  was  told  in  the  House 
of  Commons  that  he  was  a degenerate  son,  and 
that  his  partiality  for  the  hereditary  foes  of  our 
island  was  enough  to  make  his  great  father’s 
bones  stir  under  the  pavement  of  the  Abbey. 

And  this  man,  whose  name,  if  he  had  been 
so  fortunate  as  to  die  in  1792,  would  now  have 
been  associated  with  peace,  with  freedom,  with 
philanthropy,  with  temperate  reform,  with  mild 
and  constitutional  administration,  lived  to  as- 
sociate his  name  with  arbitrary  government, 
with  harsh  laws  harshly  executed,  with  alien 
bills,  with  gagging  bills,  with  suspension  of  the 
Habeas  Corpus  Act,  with  cruel  punishments 
inflicted  on  some  political  agitators,  with  un- 
justifiable prosecutions  instituted  against  others 
and  with  the  most  costly  and  most  sanguinary 
wars  of  modern  times.  He  lived  to  be  held  up 
to  obloquy  as  the  stern  oppressor  of  England, 
and  the  indefatigable  disturber  of  Europe. 
Poets,  contrasting  his  earlier  with  his  later 
years,  likened  him  sometimes  to  the  apostle 
who  kissed  in  order  to  betray,  and  sometimes 
to  the  evil  angels  who  kept  not  their  first 
estate.  A satirist  of  great  genius  introduced 
the  fiends  of  Famine,  Slaughter,  and  Fire,  pro- 
claiming that  they  had  received  their  commis- 
sion from  One  whose  name  was  formed  of  four 
letters,  and  promising  to  give  their  employer 
ample  proofs  of  gratitude.  Famine  would 
gnaw  the  multitude  till  they  should  rise  against 
him  in  madness.  The  demon  of  Slaughter 
would  impel  them  to  tear  him  limb  from  limb. 
But  Fire  boasted  that  she  alone  could  reward 
him  as  he  deserved,  and  that  she  would  cling 


biographical  essays. 


338 

round  him  to  all  eternity.  By  the  French  press 
and  the  French  tribune  every  crime  that  dis- 
graced and  every  calamity  that  afflicted  France 
was  ascribed  to  the  monster  Pitt  and  his 
guineas.  While  the  Jacobins  were  dominant, 
it  was  he  who  had  corrupted  the  Gironde,  who 
had  raised  Lyons  and  Bordeaux  against  the 
Convention,  who  had  suborned  Paris  to  as- 
sassinate Lepelletier,  and  Cecilia  Regnault 
to  assassinate  Robespierre.  When  the  Ther- 
midorian  reaction  came,  all  the  atrocities 
of  the  Reign  of  Terror  were  imputed  to  him. 
Collot  D’Herbois  and  Fouquier  Tinville  had 
been  his  pensioners.  It  was  he  who  had 
hired  the  murderers  of  September,  who  had 
dictated  the  pamphlets  of  Marat  and  the 
Carmagnoles  of  Barere,  w'ho  had  paid  Lebon 
to  deluge  Arras  with  blood,  and  Carrier  to 
choke  the  Loire  with  corpses. 

The  truth  is  that  he  liked  neither  war  nor 
arbitrary  government  He  was  a lover  of  peace 
and  freedom,  driven,  by  a stress  against  which 
it  w'as  hardly  possible  for  any  will  or  any  intel- 
lect to  struggle,  out  of  the  course  to  wfflich  his 
inclinations  pointed,  and  for  which  his  abilities 
and  acquirements  fitted  him,  and  forced  into  a 
policy  repugnant  to  his  feelings  and  unsuited 
to  his  talents. 

The  charge  of  apostasy  is  grossly  unjust.  A 
man  ought  no  more  to  be  called  an  apostate 
because  his  opinions  alter  with  the  opinions 
of  the  great  body  of  his  contemporaries  than 
he  ought  to  be  called  an  oriental  traveller  be- 
cause he  is  always  going  round  from  west  to 
east  with  the  globe  and  everything  that  is  upon 
it.  Between  the  spring  of  1789  and  the  close 
of  1792,  the  public  mind  of  England  under- 
went a great  change.  If  the  change  of  Pitt’s 
sentiments  attracted  peculiar  notice,  it  was  not 
because  he  changed  more  than  his  neighbors ; 
for  in  fact  he  changed  less  than  most  of  them  ; 
but  because  his  position  was  far  more  con- 
spicuous than  theirs  ; because  he  w'as,  till  Bona- 


1 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


339 


parte  appeared,  the  individual  who  filled  the 
greatest  space  in  the  eyes  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  civilized  world.  During  a short  time  the 
nation,  and  Pitt,  as  one  of  the  nation,  looked 
with  interest  and  approbation  on  the  French 
Revolution.  But  soon  vast  confiscations,  the 
violent  sweeping  away  of  ancient  institutions, 
the  domination  of  clubs,  the  barbarities  of 
mobs  maddened  by  famine  and  hatred,  pro- 
duced a reaction  here.  The  court,  the  nobility, 
the  gentry,  the  clergy,  the  manufacturers,  the 
merchants,  in  short,  nineteen  twentieths  of 
those  who  had  good  roofs  over  their  heads  and 
good  coats  on  their  backs,  became  eager  and 
intolerant  Anti-jacobins.  This  feeling  was  at 
least  as  strong  among  the  minister’s  adversa- 
ries as  among  his  supporters.  Fox  in  vain  at- 
tempted to  restrain  his  followers.  All  his 
genius,  all  his  vast  personal  influence,  could 
not  prevent  them  from  rising  up  against  him  in 
general  mutiny.  Burke  set  the  example  of  re- 
volt ; and  Burke  was  in  no  long  time  joined  by 
Portland,  Spencer,  Fitzwilliam,  Loughborough, 
Carlisle,  Malmesbury,  Windham,  Elliot.  In 
the  House  of  Commons,  the  followers  of  the 
great  Whig  statesman  and  orator  diminished 
from  about  a hundred  and  sixty  to  fifty.  In 
the  House  of  Lords  he  had  but  ten  or  twelve 
adherents  left.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
there  would  have  been  a similar  mutiny  on  the 
ministerial  benches  if  Pitt  had  obstinately  re- 
sisted the  general  wish.  Pressed  at  once  by 
his  master  and  by  his  colleagues,  by  old  friends 
and  by  old  opponents,  he  abandoned  slowly 
and  reluctantly,  the  policy  which  was  dear  to 
his  heart.  He  labored  hard  to  avert  the  Euro- 
pean war.  When  the  European  war  broke  out, 
he  still  flattered  himself  that  it  would  not  be 
necessary  for  this  country  to  take  either  side. 
In  the  spring  of  1792  he  congratulated  the 
Parliament  on  the  prospect  of  long  and  pro- 
found peace,  and  proved  his  sincerity  by  pro- 
posing large  remissions  of  taxation.  Down  to 


340 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


the  end  of  that  year  he  continued  to  cherish 
the  hope  that  England  might  be  able  to  pre- 
serve neutrality.  But  the  passions  which  raged 
on  both  sides  of  the  channel  were  not  to  be 
restrained.  The  republicans  who  ruled  France 
were  inflamed  by  a fanaticism  resembling  that 
of  the  Mussulmans,  who,  with  the  Koran  in  one 
hand  and  the  sword  in  the  other,  went  forth, 
conquering  and  converting,  eastward  to  the 
Bay  of  Bengal,  and  westward  to  the  Pillars  of 
Hercules.  The  higher  and  middle  classes  of 
England  were  animated  by  zeal  not  less  fiery 
than  that  of  the  Crusaders  who  raised  the  cry 
of  Dens  vult  at  Clermont.  The  impulse  which 
drove  the  two  nations  to  a collision  was  not  to 
be  arrested  by  the  abilities  or  by  the  authority 
of  any  single  man.  As  Pitt  was  in  front  of  his 
fellows,  and  towered  high  above  them,  he 
seemed  to  lead  them.  But  in  fact  he  was 
violently  pushed  on  by  them,  and,  had  he  held 
back  but  a little  more  than  he  did,  would  have 
been  thrust  out  of  their  way  or  trampled  under 
their  feet. 

He  yielded  to  the  current : and  from  that 
day  his  misfortunes  began.  The  truth  is  that 
there  were  only  two  consistent  courses  before 
him.  Since  he  did  not  choose  to  oppose  him- 
self, side  by  side  with  Fox,  to  the  public  feel- 
ing, he  should  have  taken  the  advice  of  Burke, 
and  should  have  availed  himself  of  that  feeling 
to  the  full  extent.  If  it  was  impossible  to 
preserve  peace,  he  should  have  adopted  the 
only  policy  which  could  lead  to  victory.  He 
should  have  proclaimed  a Holy  War  for  relig- 
ion, morality,  property,  order,  public  law,  and 
should  have  thus  opposed  to  the  Jacobins  an 
energy  equal  to  their  own.  Unhappily  he  tried 
to  find  a middle  path  ; and  he  found  one  which 
united  all  that  was  worst  in  both  extremes. 
He  went  to  war ; but  he  would  not  understand 
the  peculiar  character  of  that  war.  He  was 
obstinately  blind  to  the  plain  fact,  that  he  was 
contending  against  a state  which  was  also  a 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


341 


sect,  and  that  the  new  quarrel  between  England 
and  France  was  of  quite  a different  kind  from 
the  old  quarrels  about  colonies  in  America  and 
fortresses  in  the  Netherlands.  He  had  to  com- 
bat frantic  enthusiasm,  boundless  ambition, 
restless  activity,  the  wildest  and  most  audacious 
spirit  of  innovation;  and  he  acted  as 'if  he  had 
to  deal  with  the  harlots  and  fops  of  the  old 
Court  of  Versailles,  with  Madame  de  Pompa- 
dour and  the  Abbe  de  Bernis.  It  was  pitiable 
to  hear  him,  year  after  year,  proving  to  an  ad- 
miring audience  that  the  wicked  Republic  was 
exhausted,  that  she  could  not  hold  out,  that 
her  credit  was  gone,  and  her  assignats  were 
not  worth  more  than  the  paper  of  which  they 
were  made  ; as  if  credit  was  necessary  to  a 
government  of  which  tljp  principle  was  rapine, 
as  if  Alboin  could  not  turn  Italy  into  a desert 
till  he  had  negotiated  a loan  at  five  per  cent., 
as  if  the  exchequer  bills  of  Attila  had  been  at 
par.  It  was  impossible  that  a man  who  so  com- 
pletely mistook  the  nature  of  a contest  could 
carry  on  that  contest  successfully.  Great  as 
Pitt’s  abilities  were,  his  military  administration 
was  that  of  a driveller.  He  was  at  the  head  of 
a nation  engaged  in  a struggle  for  life  and 
death,  of  a nation  eminently  distinguished  by 
all  the  physical  and  all  the  moral  qualities 
which  make  excellent  soldiers.  The  resources 
at  his  command  were  unlimited.  The  Parlia- 
ment was  even  more  ready  to  grant  him  men 
and  money  than  he  was  to  ask  for  them.  In 
such  an  emergency,  and  with  such  means,  such 
a statesman  as  Richelieu,  as  Louvois,  as  Chat- 
ham, as  Wellesley,  would  have  created  in  a few 
months  one  of  the  finest  armies  in  the  world, 
and  would  soon  have  discovered  and  brought 
forward  generals  worthy  to  command  such  an 
army.  Germany  might  have  been  saved  by 
another  Blenheim ; Flanders  recovered  by 
another  Ramilies  ; another  Poitiers  might  have 
delivered  the  Royalist  and  Catholic  provinces 
of  France  from  a yoke  which  they  abhorred, 


342 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


and  might  have  spread  terror  even  to  the  bar- 
riers of  Paris.  But  the  fact  is,  that,  after  eight 
years  of  war,  after  a vast  destruction  of  life, 
after  an  expenditure  of  wealth  far  exceeding 
the  expenditure  of  the  American  War,  of  the 
Seven  Years’  War,  of  the  war  of  the  Austrian 
Succession,  and  of  the  war  of  the  Spanish 
Succession,  united,  the  English  army,  under 
Pitt,  was  the  laughing-stock  of  all  Europe.  It 
could  not  boast  of  one  single  brilliant  exploit. 
It  had  never  shown  itself  on  the  Continent  but 
to  be  beaten,  chased,  forced  to  re-embark, 
or  forced  to  capitulate.  To  take  some  sugar 
island  in  the  West  Indies,  to  scatter  some  mob 
of  half-naked  Irish  peasants,  such  were  the 
most  splendid  victories  won  by  the  British 
troops  under  Pitt’s  auspices. 

The  English  navy  no  mismanagement  could 
ruin.  But  during  a long  period  whatever  mis- 
management could  do  was  done.  The  Earl  of 
Chatham,  without  a single  qualification  for 
high  public  trust,  was  made,  by  fraternal  par- 
tiality, First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty,  and  was 
kept  in  that  great  post  during  two  years  of  a 
war  in  which  the  very  existence  of  the  state 
depended  on  the  efficiency  of  the  fleet.  He 
continued  to  doze  away  and  trifle  away  the 
time  which  ought  to  have  been  devoted  to  the 
public  service,  till  the  whole  mercantile  body, 
though  generally  disposed  to  support  the  gov- 
ernment, complained  bitterly  that  our  flag  gave 
no  protection  to  our  trade.  Fortunately  he 
was  succeeded  by  George  Earl  Spencer,  one 
of  those  chiefs  of  the  Whig  party  who,  in  the 
great  schism  caused  by  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, had  followed  Burke.  Lord  Spencer 
though  inferior  to  many  of  his  colleagues  as  an 
orator,  was  decidedly  the  best  administrator 
among  them.  To  him  it  was  owing  that  along 
and  gloomy  succession  of  days  of  fasting,  and, 
most  emphatically,  of  humiliation,  was  inter- 
rupted, twice  in  the  short  space  of  eleven 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


343 

months,  by  days  of  thanksgiving  for  great 
victories. 

It  may  seem  paradoxical  to  say  that  the  in- 
capacity which  Pitt  showed  in  all  that  related 
to  the  conduct  of  the  war  is,  in  some  sense, 
the  most  decisive  proof  that  he  was  a man  of 
very  extraordinary  abilities.  Yet  this  is  the 
simple  truth.  For  assuredly  one-tenth  part  of 
his  errors  and  disasters  would  have  been  fatal 
to  the  power  and  influence  of  any  minister 
who  had  not  possessed,  in  the  highest  degree, 
the  talents  of  a parliamentary  leader.  While 
his  schemes  were  confounded,  while  his  pre- 
dictions were  falsified,  while  the  coalitions 
which  he  had  labored  to  form  were  falling  to 
pieces,  while  the  expeditions  which  he  had 
sent  forth  at  enormous  cost  were  ending  in 
route  and  disgrace,  while  the  enemy  against 
whom  he  was  feebly  contending  was  subjugat- 
ing Flanders  and  Brabant,  the  Electorate  of 
Mentz,  and  the  Electorate  of  Treves,  Holland, 
Piedmont,  Liguria,  Lombardy,  his  authority 
over  the  House  of  Commons  was  constantly 
becoming  more  and  more  absolute.  There 
was  his  empire,  there  were  his  victories,  his 
Lodi  and  his  Areola,  his  Rivoli  and  his  Ma- 
rengo. If  some  great  misfortune,  a pitched 
battle  lost  by  the  allies,  the  annexation  of  a 
new  department  to  the  French  Republic,  a 
sanguinary  insurrection  in  Ireland,  a mutiny  in 
the  fleet,  a panic  in  the  city,  a run  on  the  bank, 
had  spread  dismay  through  the  ranks  of  his 
majority,  that  dismay  lasted  only  till  he  rose 
from  the  Treasury  bench,  drew  up  his  haughty 
head,  stretched  his  arm  with  commanding 
gesture,  and  poured  forth,  in  deep  and  sono- 
rous tones,  the  lofty  language  of  inextinguish- 
able hope  and  inflexible  resolution.  Thus, 
through  a long  and  calamitous  period,  every 
disaster  that  happened  without  the  walls  of 
Parliament  was  regularly  followed  by  a tri- 
umph within  them.  At  length  he  had  no 
longer  an  opposition  to  encounter.  Of  the 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


344 

great  party  which  had  contended  against  him 
during  the  first  eight  years  of  his  administra- 
tion more  than  one-half  now  inarched  under  his 
standard,  with  his  old  competitor  the  Duke  of 
Portland  at  their  head ; and  the  rest  had, 
after  many  vain  struggles,  quitted  the  field  in 
despair.  Fox  had  retired  to  the  shades  of  St. 
Anne’s  Hill,  and  had  there  found,  in  the  society 
of  friends  whom  no  vicissitude  could  estrange 
from  him,  of  a woman  whom  he  tenderly  loved, 
and  of  the  illustrious  dead  of  Athens,  of  Rome, 
and  of  Florence,  ample  compensation  for  all 
the  misfortunes  of  his  public  life.  Session 
followed  session  with  scarcely  a single  division. 
In  the  eventful  year  1799,  the  largest  minority 
that  could  be  mustered  against  the  government 
was  twenty-five. 

In  Pitt’s  domestic  policy  there  was  at  this 
time  assuredly  no  want  of  vigor.  While  he 
offered  to  French  Jacobinism  a resistance  so* 
feeble  that  it  only  encouraged  the  evil  which 
he  wished  to  suppress,  he  put  down  English 
Jacobinism  with  a strong  hand.  The  Habeas 
Corpus  Act  was  repeatedly  suspended.  Public 
meetings  were  placed  under  severe  restraints. 
The  government  obtained  from  Parliament 
power  to  sent  out  of  the  country  aliens  who  were 
suspected  of  evil  designs  ; and  that  power  was 
not  suffered  to  be  idle.  Writers  who  pro- 
pounded doctrines  adverse  to  monarchy  and 
aristocracy  were  proscribed  and  punished  with- 
out mercy.  It  was  hardly  safe  for  a republican 
to  avow  his  political  creed  over  his  beefsteak 
and  his  bottle  of  port  at  a chop-house.  The 
old  laws  of  Scotland  against  sedition,  laws 
which  were  considered  by  Englishmen  as  bar- 
barous, and  which  a succession  of  governments 
had  suffered  to  rust,  were  now  furbished  up  and 
sharpened  anew.  Men  of  cultivated  minds 
and  polished  manners  were,  for  offences  which 
at  Westminster  would  have  been  treated  as 
mere  misdemeanors,  sent  to  herd  with  felons 
at  Botany  Bay.  Some  reformers,  whose  opin- 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


345 


ions  were  extravagant,  and  whose  language 
was  intemperate,  but  who  had  never  dreamed 
of  subverting  the  government  with  physical 
force,  were  indicted  for  high  treason,  and  were 
saved  from  the  gallows  only  by  the  righteous 
verdicts  of  juries.  This  severity  was  at  the 
time  loudly  applauded  by  alarmists  whom  fear 
had  made  cruel,  but  will  be  seen  in  a very 
different  light  by  posterity  The  truth  is,  that 
the  Englishmen  who  wished  for  a revolution 
were,  even  in  number,  not  formidable,  and,  in 
everything  but  number,  a faction  utterly  con- 
temptible, without  arms,  or  funds,  or  plans,  or 
organization,  or  leader.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  Pitt,  strong  as  he  was  in  the  support 
of  the  great  body  of  the  nation,  might  easily 
have  repressed  the  turbulence  of  the  discon- 
tented minority  by  firmly  yet  temperately  en- 
forcing the  ordinary  law.  Whatever  vigor  he 
showed  during  this  unfortunate  part  of  his  life 
was  vigor  out  of  place  and  season.  He  was 
all  feebleness  and  languor  in  his  conflict  with 
the  foreign  enemy  who  was  really  to  be  dreaded, 
and  reserved  all  his  energy  and  resolution  for 
the  domestic  enemy  who  might  safely  have 
been  despised. 

One  part  only  of  Pitt’s  conduct  during  the 
last  eight  years  of  the  eighteenth  century  de- 
serves high  praise.  He  was  the  first  English 
minister  who  formed  great  designs  for  the 
benefit  of  Ireland.  The  manner  in  which  the 
Roman  Catholic  population  of  that  unfortunate 
country  had  been  kept  down  during  many 
generations  seemed  to  him  unjust  and  cruel ; 
and  it  was  scarcely  possible  for  a man  of  his 
abilities  not  to  perceive  that,  in  a contest 
against  the  Jacobins,  the  Roman  Catholics 
were  his  natural  allies.  Had  he  been  able  to 
do  all  that  he  wished,  it  is  probable  that  a wise 
and  liberal  policy  would  have  averted  the  re- 
bellion of  1798.  But  the  difficulties  which  he 
encountered  were  great,  perhaps  insurmount- 
able ; and  the  Roman  Catholics  were,  rather 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


346 

by  his  misfortune  than  by  his  fault,  thrown 
into  the  hands  of  the  Jacobins.  There  was  a 
third  great  rising  of  the  Irishry  against  the 
Englishry,  a rising  not  less  formidable  than 
the  rising  of  1641  and  1689.  The  Englishry 
remained  victorious;  and  it  was  necessary  for 
Pitt,  as  it  had  been  necessary  for  Oliver  Crom- 
well and  William  of  Orange  before  him,  to  con- 
sider how  the  victory  should  be  used.  It  is 
only  just  to  his  memory  to  say  that  he  formed 
a scheme  of  policy,  so  grand  and  so  simple,  so 
righteous  and  so  humane,  that  it  would  alone 
entitle  him  to  a high  place  among  statesmen. 
He  determined  to  make  Ireland  one  kingdom 
with  England,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  relieve 
the  Roman  Catholic  laity  from  civil  disabilities, 
and  to  grant  a public  maintenance  to  the 
Roman  Catholic  clergy.  Had  he  been  able  to 
to  carry  these  noble  designs  into  effect,  the 
Union  would  have  been  an  Union  indeed.  It 
would  have  been  inseparably  associated  in  the 
minds  of  the  great  majority  of  Irishmen  with 
civil  and  religious  freedom  ; and  the  old  Parlia- 
ment in  College  Green  would  have  been  re- 
gretted only  by  a small  knot  of  discarded 
jobbers  and  oppressors,  and  would  have  been 
remembered  by  the  body  of  the  nation  with 
the  loathing  and  contempt  due  to  the  most 
tyrannical  and  the  most  corrupt  assembly  that 
ever  sate  in  Europe.  But  Pitt  could  execute 
only  one  half  of  what  he  had  projected.  He 
succeeded  in  obtaining  the  consent  of  the  Par- 
liaments of  both  kingdoms  to  the  Union  ; but 
that  reconciliation  of  races  and  sects,  without 
which  the  Union  could  exist  only  in  name,  was 
not  accomplished.  He  was  well  aware  that  he 
was  likely  to  find  difficulties  in  the  closet.  But 
he  flattered  himself  that,  by  cautious  and 
dexterous  management,  those  difficulties  might 
be  overcome.  Unhappily,  there  were  traitors 
and  sycophants  in  high  place  who  did  not 
suffer  him  to  take  his  own  time  and  his  own 
way,  but  prematurely  disclosed  his  scheme  to 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


347 


the  King,  and  disclosed  it  in  the  manner  most 
likely  to  irritate  and  alarm  a weak  and  diseased 
mind.  His  Majesty  absurdly  imagined  that 
his  Coronation  oath  bound  him  to  refuse  his 
assent  to  any  bill  for  relieving  Roman  Catholics 
from  civil  disabilities.  To  argue  with  him  was 
impossible.  Dundas  tried  to  explain  the 
matter,  but  was  told  to  keep  his  Scotch  meta- 
physics to  himself.  Pitt,  and  Pitt’s  ablest 
colleagues,  resigned  their  offices.  It  was 
necessary  that  the  King  should  make  a new 
arrangement.  But  by  this  time  his  anger  and 
distress  had  brought  back  the  malady  which 
had,  many  years  before,  incapacitated  him  for 
the  discharge  of  his  functions.  He  actually 
assembled  his  family,  read  the  Coronation  oath 
to  them,  and  told  them  that,  if  he  broke  it,  the 
Crown  would  immediately  pass  to  the  House 
of  Savoy.  It  was  not  until  after  an  interregnum 
of  several  weeks  that  he  regained  the  full  use 
of  his  small  faculties,  and  that  a ministry  after 
his  own  heart  was  at  length  formed. 

The  materials  out  of  which  he  had  to  con- 
struct a government  were  neither  solid  nor 
splendid.  To  that  party,  weak  in  numbers, 
but  strong  in  every  kind  of  talent,  which  was 
hostile  to  the  domestic  and  foreign  policy  of 
his  late  advisers,  he  could  not  have  recourse. 
For  that  party,  while  it  differed  from  his  late 
advisers  on  every  point  on  which  they  had  been 
honored  with  his  approbation,  cordially  agreed 
with  them  as  to  the  single  matter  which  had 
brought  on  them  his  displeasure.  All  that  was 
left  to  him  was  to  call  up  the  rear  ranks  of  the 
old  ministry  to  form  the  front  rank  of  a new 
ministry.  In  an  age  pre-eminently  fruitful  of 
parliamentary  talents,  a cabinet  was  formed 
containing  hardly  a single  man  who,  in  parlia- 
mentary talents,  could  be  considered  as  even 
the  second  rate.  The  most  important  offices 
in  the  state  were  bestowed  on  decorous  and 
laborious  mediocrity,  Henry  Addington  was 
at  the  head  of  the  Treasury.  He  had  been  an 


348  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

early,  indeed  a hereditary,  friend  of  Pitt,  and 
had  by  Pitt’s  influence  been  placed,  while  still 
a young  man,  in  the  chair  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  He  was  universally  admitted  to 
have  been  the  best  speaker  that  had  sate  in  that 
chair  since  the  retirement  of  Onslow.  But 
nature  had  not  bestowed  on  him  very  vigorous 
faculties  ; and  the  highly  respectable  situation 
which  he  had  long  occupied  with  honor  had 
rather  unfitted  than  fitted  him  for  the  discharge 
of  his  new  duties.  His  business  had  been 
to  bear  himself  evenly  between  contending 
factions.  He  had  taken  no  part  in  the  war  of 
words  ; and  he  had  always  been  addressed 
with  marked  deference  by  the  great  orators 
who  thundered  against  each  other  from  his 
right  and  from  his  left.  It  was  not  strange, 
that,  when,  for  the  first  time,  he  had  to  en- 
counter keen  and  vigorous  antagonists,  who 
deal  hard  blows  without  the  smallest  cere- 
mony, he  should  have  been  awkward  and  un- 
ready, or  that  the  air  of  dignity  and  authority 
which  he  had  acquired  in  his  former  post,  and 
of  which  he  had  not  divested  himself,  should 
have  made  his  helplessness  laughable  and  piti- 
able. Nevertheless,  during  many  months,  his 
power  seemed  to  stand  firm.  He  was  a favor- 
ite with  the  King,  whom  he  resembled  in 
narrowness  of  mind,  and  to  whom  he  was  more 
obsequious  than  Pitt  had  ever  been.  The 
nation  was  put  into  high  good  humor  by  peace 
with  France.  The  enthusiasm  with  which  the 
upper  and  middle  classes  had  rushed  into  the 
war  spent  itself.  Jacobinism  was  no  longer 
formidable.  Everywhere  there  was  a strong 
reaction  against  what  was  called  the  atheistical 
and  anarchical  philosophy  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Bonaparte,  now  First  Consul,  was 
busied  in  constructing  out  of  the  ruins  of  old 
institutions  a new  ecclesiastical  establishment 
and  a new  order  of  knighthood.  That  nothing 
less  than  the  dominion  of  the  whole  civilized 
world  would  satisfy  his  selfish  ambition  was  not 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


349 


yet  suspected  ; nor  did  even  wise  men  see  any 
reason  to  doubt  that  he  might  be  as  safe  a 
neighbor  as  any  prince  of  the  House  of  Bourbon 
had  been.  The  treaty  of  Amiens  was  there- 
fore hailed  by  the  great  body  of  the  English 
people  with  extravagant  joy.  The  popularity 
of  the  minister  was  for  the  moment  immense. 
His  want  of  parliamentary  ability  was,  as  yet, 
of  little  consequence  ; for  he  had  scarcely  any 
adversary  to  encounter.  The  old  opposition 
delighted  by  the  peace,  regarded  him  with 
favor.  A new  opposition  had  indeed  been 
formed  by  some  of  the  late  ministers,  and  was 
led  by  Grenville  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and 
by  Windham  in  the  House  of  Commons.  But 
the  new  opposition  could  scarcely  muster  ten 
votes  and  was  regarded  with  no  favor  by  the 
country.  On  Pitt  the  ministers  relied  as  on 
their  firmest  support.  He  had  not,  like  some 
of  his  colleagues,  retired  in  anger.  He  had 
expressed  the  greatest  respect  for  the  con- 
scientious scruple  which  had  taken  possession 
of  the  royal  mind  ; and  he  had  promised  his 
successors  all  the  help  in  his  power.  In  private 
his  advice  was  at  their  service.  In  Parliament 
he  took  his  seat  on  the  bench  behind  them  ; 
and,  in  more  than  one  debate,  defended  them 
with  powers  far  superior  to  their  own.  The 
King  perfectly  understood  the  value  of  such 
assistance.  On  one  occasion,  at  the  palace,  he 
took  the  old  minister  and  the  new  minister 
aside.  “ If  we  three,”  he  said,  “ keep  together, 
all  will  go  well.” 

But  it  was  hardly  possible,  human  nature 
being  what  it  is,  and,  more  especially,  Pitt  and 
Addington  being  what  they  were,  that  this 
union  should  be  durable.  Pitt,  conscious  of  su- 
perior powers,  imagined  that  the  place  which 
he  had  quitted  was  now  occupied  by  a mere 
puppet  which  he  had  set  up,  which  he  was  to 
govern  while  he  suffered  it  to  remain,  and 
which  he  was  to  fling  aside  as  soon  as  he  wish- 
ed to  resume  his  old  position.  Nor  was  it  long 


35° 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


before  he  began  to  pine  for  the  power  which 
he  had  relinquished.  He  had  been  so  early 
raised  to  supreme  authority  in  the  state,  and 
had  enjoyed  that  authority  so  long,  that  it  had 
become  necessary  to  him.  In  retirement  his 
days  passed  heavily.  He  could  not,  like  Fox, 
forget  the  pleasures  and  cares  of  ambition  in 
the  company  of  Euripides  or  Herodotus.  Pride 
restrained  him  from  intimating,  even  to  his 
dearest  friends,  that  he  wished  to  be  again 
minister.  But  he  thought  it  strange,  almost 
ungrateful,  that  his  wish  had  not  been  divined, 
that  it  had  not  been  anticipated,  by  one  whom 
he  regarded  as  his  deputy. 

Addington,  on  the  other  hand,  was  by  no 
means  inclined  to  descend  from  his  high  posi- 
tion. He  was,  indeed,  under  a delusion  much 
resembling  that  of  Abon  Hassan  in  the  Arabi- 
an tale.  His  brain  was  turned  by  his  short 
and  unreal  Caliphate.  He  took  his  elevation 
quite  seriously,  attributed  it  to  his  own  merit, 
and  considered  himself  as  one  of  the  great  tri- 
umvirate of  English  statesmen,  as  worthy  to 
make  a third  with  Pitt  and  Fox. 

Such  being  the  feeling  of  the  late  minister 
and  of  the  present  minister,  a rupture  was  in- 
evitable ; and  there  was  no  want  of  persons 
bent  on  making  that  rupture  speedy  and  vio- 
lent. Some  of  these  persons  wounded  Adding- 
ton’s pride  by  representing  him  as  a lackey, 
sent  to  keep  a place  on  the  Treasury  bench  till 
his  master  should  find  it  convenient  to  come. 
Others  took  every  opportunity  of  praising  him 
at  Pitt’s  expense.  Pitt  had  waged  a long,  a 
bloody,  a costly,  an  unsuccessful  war.  Ad- 
dington had  made  peace.  Pitt  had  suspended 
the  constitutional  liberties  of  Englishmen. 
Under  Addington  those  liberties  were  again 
enjoyed.  Pitt  had  wasted  the  public  re- 
sources. Addington  was  carefully  nursing  them. 
It  was  sometimes  but  too  evident  that  these 
compliments  were  not  unpleasing  to  Adding- 
ton, Fitt  became  cold  and  reserved,  During 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


3Si 

many  months  he  remained  at  a distance  from 
London.  Meanwhile  his  most  intimate  friends, 
in  spite  of  his  declarations  that  he  made  no 
complaint,  and  that  he  had  no  wish  for  office, 
exerted  themselves  to  effect  a change  of  min- 
istry. His  favorite  disciple,  George  Canning, 
young,  ardent,  ambitious,  with  great  powers 
and  great  virtues,  but  with  a temper  too  rest- 
less and  a wit  too  satirical  for  his  own  happi- 
ness, was  indefatigable.  He  spoke  ; he  wrote  ; 
he  intrigued ; he  tried  to  induce  a large  num- 
ber of  the  supporters  of  the  government  to 
sign  a round  robin  desiring  a change  ; he  made 
game  of  Addington  and  of  Addington’s  rela- 
tions in  a succession  of  lively  pasquinades. 
The  minister’s  partisans  retorted  with  equal  ac- 
rimony, if  not  with  equal  vivacity.  Pitt  could 
keep  out  of  the  affray  only  by  keeping  out  of 
politics  altogether  ; and  this  it  soon  became 
impossible  for  him  to  do.  Had  Napoleon, 
content  with  the  first  place  among  the  sover- 
eigns of  the  Continent,  and  with  a military 
reputation  surpassing  that  of  Marlborough  or 
of  Turenne,  devoted  himself  to  the  noble  task 
of  making  France  happy  by  mild  administra- 
tion and  wise  legislation,  our  country  might 
have  long  continued  to  tolerate  a government 
of  fair  intentions  and  feeble  abilities.  Unhap- 
pily, the  treaty  of  Amiens  had  scarcely  been 
signed,  when  the  restless  ambition  and  the  in- 
supportable insolence  of  the  First  Consul  con- 
vinced the  great  body  of  the  English  people 
that  the  peace,  so  eagerly  welcomed,  was  only 
a precarious  armistice.  As  it  became  clearer 
and  clearer  that  a war  for  the  dignity,  the  in- 
dependence, the  very  existence  of  the  nation 
was  at  hand,  men  looked  with  increasing  un- 
easiness on  the  weak  and  languid  cabinet 
which  would  have  to  contend  against  an  enemy 
who  united  more  than  the  power  of  Louis  the 
Great  to  more  than  the  genius  of  Frederic  the 
Great.  It  is  true  that  Addington  might  easily 
have  been  a better  war  minister  than  .Pitt,  and 


352 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


could  not  possibly  have  been  a worse.  But 
Pitt  had  cast  a spell  on  the  public  mind.  The 
eloquence,  the  judgment,  the  calm  and  disdain- 
ful firmness,  which  he  had,  during  many  years, 
displayed  in  Parliament,  deluded  the  world  in- 
to the  belief  that  he  must  be  eminently  qualified 
to  superintend  every  department  of  politics  ; 
and  they  imagined,  even  after  the  miserable 
failures  of  Dunkirk,  of  Quiberon,  and  of  the 
Helder,  that  he  was  the  only  statesman  who 
could  cope  with  Bonaparte.  This  feeling  was 
nowhere  stronger  than  among  Addington’s  own 
colleagues.  The  pressure  put  on  him  was  so 
strong  that  he  could  not  help  yielding  to  it ; 
yet,  even  in  yielding,  he  showed  how  far  he 
was  from  knowing  his  own  place.  His  first 
proposition  was,  that  some  insignificant  noble- 
man should  be  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  and 
nominal  head  of  the  administration,  and  that 
the  real  power  should  be  divided  between  Pitt 
and  himself,  who  were  to  be  secretaries  of 
state.  Pitt,  as  might  have  been  expected,  re- 
fused even  to  discuss  such  a scheme,  and  talked 
of  it  with  bitter  mirth.  “ Which  secretary- 
ship was  offered  to  you  ? ” his  friend  Wilber- 
force  asked.  “ Really,”  said  Pitt,  “ I had  not 
the  curiosity  to  enquire.”  Addington  was 
frightened  into  bidding  higher.  He  offered  to 
resign  the  Treasury  to  Pitt,  on  condition  that 
there  should  be  no  extensive  change  in  the 
government.  But  Pitt  would  listen  to  no  such 
terms.  Then  came  a dispute  such  as  often 
arises  after  negotiations  orally  conducted,  even 
when  the  negotiators  are  men  of  strict  honor. 
Pitt  gave  one  account  of  what  had  passed; 
Addington  gave  another  : and,  though  the  dis- 
crepancies were  not  such  as  necessarily  im- 
plied any  intentional  violation  of  truth  on 
either  side,  both  were  greatly  exasperated. 

Meanwhile  the  quarrel  with  the  First  Consul 
had  come  to  a crisis.  On  the  1 6th  of  May,  1803, 
the  King  sent  a message  calling  on  the  House 
pf  Commons  to  support  him  in  withstanding  th§ 


0 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


353 

ambitious  and  encroaching  policy  of  France; 
and,  on  the  22d,  the  House  took  the  message 
into  consideration. 

Pitt  had  now  been  living  some  months  in  re- 
tirement. There  had  been  a general  election 
since  he  had  spoken  in  Parliament ; and  there 
were  two  hundred  members  who  had  never 
heard  him.  It  was  known  that  on  this  occasion 
he  would  be  in  his  place  ; and  curiosity  was 
wound  up  to  the  highest  point.  Unfortunately, 
the  short-hand  writers  were,  in  consequence  of 
some  mistake,  shut  out  on  that  day  from  the 
gallery,  so  that  the  newspapers  contained  only 
a very  meagre  report  of  the  proceedings.  But 
several  accounts  of  what  passed  are  extant; 
and  of  those  accounts  the  most  interesting  is 
contained  in  an  unpublished  letter  written  by  a 
very  young  member,  John  William  Ward,  after- 
wards Earl  of  Dudley.  When  Pitt  rose,  he  was 
received  with  loud  cheering.  At  every  pause 
in  his  speech  there  was  a burst  of  applause. 
The  peroration  is  said  to  have  been  one  of  the 
most  animated  and  magnificent  ever  heard  in 
Parliament.  “ Pitt’s  speech,”  Fox  wrote  a few 
days  later,  “ was  admired  very  much,  and  very 
justly.  I think  it  was  the  best  he  ever  made 
in  that  style.”  The  debate  was  adjourned ; 
and  on  the  second  night  Fox  replied  in  an  ora- 
tion which,  as  the  most  zealous  Pittites  were 
forced  to  acknowledge,  left  the  palm  of  elo- 
quence doubtful.  Addington  made  a pitiable 
appearance  between  the  two  great  rivals  ; and 
it  was  observed  that  Pitt,  while  exhorting  the 
Commons  to  stand  resolutely  by  the  executive 
government  against  France,  said  not  a word 
indicating  esteem  or  friendship  for  the  Prime 
Minister. 

. War  was  speedily  declared.  The  First  Con- 
sul threatened  to  invade  England  at  the  head 
of  the  conquerors  of  Belgium  and  Italy,  and 
formed  a great  camp  near  the  Straits  of  Dover. 
On  the  other  side  of  those  Straits  the  whole 
population  of  our  island  was  ready  to  rise  up 


354 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


as  one  man  in  defence  of  the  soil.  At  this 
conjuncture,  as  at  some  other  great  conjunct- 
ures in  our  history,  the  conjuncture  of  1660, 
for  example,  and  the  conjuncture  of  1688,  there 
was  a general  disposition  among  honest  and 
patriotic  men  to  forget  old  quarrels,  and  to  re- 
gard as  a friend  every  person  who  was  ready, 
in  the  existing  emergency,  to  do  his  part  towards 
the  saving  of  the  state.  A coalition  of  all  the 
first  men  in  the  country  would,  at  that  moment, 
have  been  as  popular  as  the  coalition  of  1783 
had  been  unpopular.  Alone  in  the  kingdom 
the  King  looked  with  perfect  complacency  on 
a cabinet  in  which  no  man  superior  to  himself 
in  genius  was  to  be  found,  and  was  so  far  from 
being  willing  to  admit  all  his  ablest  subjects  to 
office  that  he  was  bent  on  excluding  them  all. 

A few  months  passed  before  the  different 
parties  which  agreed  in  regarding  the  govern- 
ment with  dislike  and  contempt  came  to  an  un- 
derstanding with  each  other.  But  in  the  spring 
of  1804  it  became  evident  that  the  weakest  of 
ministries  would  have  to  defend  itself  against 
the  strongest  of  oppositions,  an  opposition 
made  up  of  three  oppositions,  each  of  which 
would,  separately,  have  been  formidable  from 
ability,  and  which,  when  united,  were  also  for- 
midable from  number.  The  party  which  had 
opposed  the  peace,  headed  by  Grenville  and 
Windham,  and  the  party  which  had  opposed 
the  renewal  of  the  war,  headed  by  Fox,  con- 
curred in  thinking  that  the  men  now  in  power 
were  incapable  of  either  making  a good  peace 
or  waging  a vigorous  war.  Pitt  had,  in  1802, 
spoken  for  peace  against  the  party  of  Grenville, 
and  had,  in  1803,  spoken  for  war  against  the 
party  of  Fox.  But  of  the  capacity  of  the  cab- 
inet, and  especially  of  its  chief,  for  the  conduct 
of  great  affairs,  he  thought  as  meanly  as  either 
Fox  or  Grenville.  Questions  were  easily  found 
on  which  all  the  enemies  of  the  government 
could  act  cordially  together.  The  unfortunate 
First  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  who  had,  during 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


355 


the  earlier  months  of  his  administration,  been 
supported  by  Pitt  on  one  side,  and  by  Fox  on 
the  other,  now  had  to  answer  Pitt,  and  to  be 
answered  by  Fox.  Two  sharp  debates,  fol- 
lowed by  close  divisions,  made  him  weary  of 
his  post.  It  was  known,  too,  that  the  Upper 
House  was  even  more  hostile  to  him  than  the 
Lower,  that  the  Scotch  representative  peers 
wavered,  that  there  were  signs  of  mutiny  among 
the  bishops.  In  the  cabinet  itself  there  was 
discord,  and  worse  than  discord,  treachery. 
It  was  necessary  to  give  way  : the  ministry  was 
dissolved  ; and  the  task  of  forming  a govern- 
ment was  entrusted  to  Pitt. 

Pitt  was  of  opinion  that  there  was  now  an 
opportunity,  such  as  had  never  before  offered 
itself,  and  such  as  might  never  offer  itself 
again,  of  uniting  in  the  public  service,  on  hon- 
orable terms,  all  the  eminent  talents  of  the 
kingdom.  The  passions  to  which  the  French 
Revolution  had  given  birth  were  extinct.  The 
madness  of  the  innovater  and  the  madness  of 
the  alarmist  had  alike  had  their  day.  Jaco- 
binism and  Anti-Jacobinism  had  gone  out  of 
fashion  together.  The  most  liberal  statesman 
did  not  think  that  season  propitious  for  schemes 
of  parliamentary  reform  ; and  the  most  conser- 
vative statesman  could  not  pretend  that  there 
was  any  occasion  for  gagging  bills  and  suspen- 
sions of  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act.  The  great 
struggle  for  independence  and  national  honor 
occupied  all  minds  ; and  those  ■who  were  agreed 
as  to  the  duty  of  maintaining  that  struggle 
with  vigor  might  well  postpone  to  a more  con- 
venient time  all  disputes  about  matters  com- 
paratively unimportant.  Strongly  impressed 
by  these  considerations,  Pitt  wished  to  form  a 
ministry  including  all  the  first  men  in  the  coun- 
try. The  Treasury  he  reserved  for  himself; 
and  to  Fox  he  proposed  to  assign  a share  of 
power  little  inferior  to  his  own. 

The  plan  was  excellent;  but  the  king  would 
pot  hear  of  it,  Dull,  obstinate,  unforgiving, 


356  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

and,  at  that  time,  half  mad,  he  positively  refus- 
ed to  admit  Fox  into  his  service.  Anybody 
else,  even  men  who  had  gone  as  far  as  Fox,  or 
further  than  Fox,  in  what  his  Majesty  consid- 
ered as  Jacobinism,  Sheridan,  Grey,  Erskine, 
should  be  graciously  received  ; but  Fox  never. 
During  several  hours  Pitt  labored  in  vain  to 
reason  down  this  senseless  antipathy.  That 
he  was  perfectly  sincere  there  can  be  no 
doubt:  but  it  was  not  enough  to  be  sincere; 
he  should  have  been  resolute.  Had  he  declar- 
ed himself  determined  not  to  take  office  with- 
out Fox,  the  royal  obstinacy  would  have  given 
way,  as  it  gave  way,  a few  months  later,  when 
opposed  to  the  immutable  resolution  of  Lord 
Grenville.  In  an  evil  hour  Pitt  yielded.  He 
flattered  himself  with  the  hope  that,  though  he 
consented  to  forego  the  aid  of  his  illustrious 
rival,  there  would  still  remain  ample  materials 
for  the  formation  of  an  efficient  ministry. 
That  hope  was  cruelly  disappointed.  Fox  en- 
treated his  friends  to  leave  personal  considera- 
tions out  of  the  question,  and  declared  that  he 
would  support,  with  the  utmost  cordiality,  an 
efficient  and  patriotic  ministry  from  which  he 
should  be  himself  excluded.  Not  only  his 
friends,  however,  but  Grenville,  and  Grenville’s 
adherents,  answered,  with  one  voice,  that  the 
question  was  not  personal,  that  a great  consti- 
tutional principle  was  at  stake,  and  that  they 
would  not  take  office  while  a man  eminently 
qualified  to  render  service  to  the  commonwealth 
was  placed  under  ban  merely  because  he  was 
disliked  at  court.  All  that  was  left  to  Pitt  was 
to  construct  a government  out  of  the  wreck  of 
Addington’s  feeble  administration.  The  small 
circle  of  his  personal  retainers  furnished  him 
with  a very  few  useful  assistants,  particularly 
Dundas,  who  had  been  created  Viscount  Mel- 
ville, Lord  Harrowby,  and  Canning. 

Such  was  the  inauspicious  manner  in  which 
Pitt  entered  on  his  second  administration. 
The  whole  history  of  that  administration  was 


WILLIAM  PITT i 


357 


of  a piece  with  the  commencement.  Almost 
every  month  brought  some  new  disaster  or  dis- 
grace. To  the  war  with  France  was  soon  add- 
ed a war  with  Spain.  The  opponents  of  the 
minister  were  numerous,  able,  and  active. 
His  most  useful  coadjutors  he  soon  lost.  Sick- 
ness deprived  him  of  the  help  of  Lord  Har- 
rowby.  It  was  discovered  that  Lord  Melville 
had  been  guilty  of  highly  culpable  laxity  in 
transactions  relating  to  public  money.  He 
was  censured  by  the  House  of  Commons,  driven 
from  office,  ejected  from  the  Privy  Council, 
and  impeached  of  high  crimes  and  misdemean- 
ors. The  blow  fell  heavily  on  Pitt.  It  gave 
him,  he  said  in  Parliament,  a deep  pang;  and, 
as  he  uttered  the  word  pang,  his  lip  quivered, 
his  voice  shook,  he  paused,  and  his  hearers 
thought  that  he  was  about  to  burst  into  tears. 
Such  tears  shed  by  Eldon  would  have  moved 
nothing  but  laughter.  Shed  by  the  warm-heart- 
ed and  open-hearted  Fox,  they  would  have 
moved  sympathy,  but  would  have  caused  no 
surprise.  But  a tear  from  Pitt  would  have 
been  something  portentous.  He  suppressed 
his  emotion,  however,  and  proceeded  with  his 
usual  majestic  self-possession. 

His  difficulties  compelled  him  to  resort  to 
various  expedients.  At  one  time  Addington 
was  persuaded  to  accept  office  with  a peerage  ; 
but  he  brought  no  additional  strength  to  the 
government.  Though  he  went  through  the 
form  of  reconciliation,  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  forget  the  past.  While  he  remained  in 
place  he  was  jealous  and  punctilious  ; and  he 
soon  retired  again.  At  another  time  Pitt  re- 
newed his  efforts  to  overcome  his  master’s 
aversion  to  Fox  ; and  it  was  rumored  that  the 
King's  obstinacy  was  gradually  giving  way. 
But  meanwhile,  it  was  impossible  for  the  min- 
ister to  conceal  from  the  public  eye  the  decay 
of  his  health,  and  the  constant  anxiety  which 
gnawed  at  his  heart.  His  sleep  was  broken. 
His  food  ceased  to  nourish  him,  All  who 


BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSA  VS. 


358 

passed  him  in  the  Park  all,  who  had  interviews 
with  him  in  Downing  Street,  saw  misery  writ- 
ten in  his  face.  The  peculiar  look  which  he 
wore  during  the  last  months  of  his  life  was 
often  pathetically  described  by  Wilberforce, 
who  used  to  call  it  the  Austerlitz  look, 

Still  the  vigor  of  Pitt’s  intellectual  faculties, 
and  the  intrepid  haughtiness  of  his  spirit,  re- 
mained unaltered.  He  had  staked  everything 
on  a great  venture.  He  had  succeeded  in 
forming  another  mighty  coalition  against  the 
French  ascendency.  The  united  forces  of  Aus- 
tria, Russia  and  England  might,  he  hoped,  op- 
pose an  insurmountable  barrier  to  the  ambition 
of  the  common  enemy.  But  the  genius  and 
energy  of  Napoleon  prevailed.  While  the 
English  troops  were  preparing  to  embark  for 
Germany,  while  the  Russian  troops  were  slow- 
ly coming  up  from  Poland,  he,  with  rapidity 
unprecedented  in  modern  war,  moved  a hun- 
dred thousand  men  from  the  shores  of  the  Ocean 
to  the  Black  Forest,  and  compelled  a great 
Austrian  army  to  surrender  at  Ulm.  To  the 
first  faint  rumors  of  this  calamity  Pitt  would 
give  no  credit.  He  was  irritated  by  the  alarms 
of  those  around  him.  “ Do  not  believe  a word 
of  it,”  he  said  : “ it  is  all  a fiction.”  The  next 
day  he  received  a Dutch  newspaper  containing 
the  capitulation.  He  knew  no  Dutch.  It  was 
Sunday  ; and  the  public  offices  were  shut.  He 
carried  the  paper  to  Lord  Malmesbury,  who 
had  been  minister  in  Holland  ; and  Lord 
Malmesbury  translated  it.  Pitt  tried  to  bear 
up ; but  the  shock  was  too  great ; and  he  went 
away  with  death  in  his  face. 

The  news  of  the  battle  of  Trafalgar  arrived 
four  days  later,  and  seemed  for  a moment  to 
revive  him.  Forty-eight  hours  after  that  most 
glorious  and  most  mournful  of  victories  had 
been  announced  to  the  country  came  the  Lord 
Mayor’s  day ; and  Pitt  dined  at  Guildhall. 
His  popularity  had  declined.  But  on  this  oc- 
casion the  multitude,  greatly  excited  by  the  re- 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


359 


cent  tidings,  welcomed  him  enthusiastically, 
took  off  his  horses  in  Cheapside,  and  drew  his 
carriage  up  King  Street.  When  his  health 
was  drunk,  he  returned  thanks  in  two  or  three 
of  those  stately  sentences  of  which  he  had  a 
boundless  command.  Several  of  those  who 
heard  him  laid  up  his  words  in  their  hearts  ; 
for  they  were  the  last  words  that  he  ever  utter- 
ed in  public  : “ Let  us  hope  that  England,  hav- 
ing saved  herself  by  her  energy,  may  save 
Europe  by  her  example.” 

This  was  but  a momentary  rally.  Austerlitz 
soon  completed  what  Ulm  had  begun.  Early 
in  December  Pitt  had  retired  to  Bath,  in  the 
hope  that  he  might  there  gather  strength  for 
the  approaching  session.  While  he  was  lan- 
guishing there  on  his  sofa  arrived  the  news  that 
a decisive  battle  had  been  fought  and  lost  in 
Moravia,  that  the  coalition  was  dissolved,  that 
the  Continent  was  at  the  feet  of  France.  He 
sank  down  under  the  blow.  Ten  days  later, 
he  was  so  emaciated  that  his  most  intimate 
friends  hardly  knew  him.  He  came  up  from 
Bath  by  slow  journeys,  and,  on  the  nth  of 
January,  1806,  reached  his  villa  at  Putney. 
Parliament  was  to  meet  on  the  21st.  On  the 
20th  was  to  be  the  parliamentary  dinner  at  the 
house  of  the  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  in 
Downing  Street ; and  the  cards  were  already 
issued.  But  the  days  of  the  great  minister 
were  numbered.  The  only  chance  for  his  life, 
and  that  a very  slight  chance,  was,  that  he 
should  resign  his  office,  and  pass  some  months 
in  profound  repose.  His  colleagues  paid  him 
very  short  visits,  and  carefully  avoided  politi- 
cal conversation.  But  his  spirit,  long  accus- 
tomed to  dominion,  could  not,  even  in  that  ex- 
tremity, relinquish  hopes  which  everybody  but 
himself  perceived  to  be  vain.  On  the  day 
on  which  he  was  carried  into  his  bed-room  at 
Putney,  the  Marquess  Wellesley,  whom  he  had 
long  loved,  whom  he  had  sent  to  govern  India, 
and  whose  administration  had  been  eminently 


360  biographical  essays. 

able,  energetic,  and  successful,  arrived  in  Lon 
don  after  an  absence  of  eight  years.  The 
friends  saw  each  other  once  more.  There  was 
an  affectionate  meeting  and  a last  parting. 
That  it  was  the  last  parting  Pitt  did  not  seem 
to  be  aware.  He  fancied  himself  to  be  recov- 
ering, talked  on  various  subjects  cheerfully, 
and  with  an  unclouded  mind,  and  pronounced 
a warm  and  discerning  eulogium  on  the  Mar- 
quess’s brother  Arthur.  “I  never,”  he  said, 
“met  with  any  military  man  with  whom  it  was 
so  satisfactory  to  converse.”  The  excitement 
and  exertion  of  this  interview  were  too  much 
for  the  sick  man.  He  fainted  away  ; and  Lord 
Wellesley  left  the  house,  convinced  that  the 
close  was  fast  approaching. 

And  now  members  of  Parliament  were  fast 
coming  up  to  London.  The  chiefs  of  the  op- 
position met  for  the  purpose  of  considering 
the  course  to  be  taken  on  the  first  day  of  the 
session.  It  was  easy  to  guess  what  would  be 
the  language  of  the  King’s  speech,  and  of  the 
address  which  would  be  moved  in  answer  to 
that  speech.  An  amendment  condemning  the 
policy  of  the  government  had  been  prepared, 
and  was  to  have  been  proposed  in  the  House 
of  Commons  by  Lord  Henry  Petty,  a young 
nobleman  who  had  already  won  for  himself 
that  place  in  the  esteem  of  his  country  which, 
after  the  lapse  of  more  than  half  a century,  he 
still  retains.  He  was  unwilling,  however,  to 
come  forward  as  the  accuser  of  one  who  was 
incapable  of  defending  himself.  Lord  Gren- 
ville, who  had  been  informed  of  Pitt’s  state  by 
Lord  Wellesley,  and  had  been  deeply  affected 
by  it,  earnestly  recommended  forbearance  ; 
and  Fox,  with  characteristic  generosity  and 
good  nature,  gave  his  voice  against  attacking 
his  now  helpless  rival.  “ Sunt  lacrymae  re- 
rum,” he  said,  “ et  mentem  mortalia  tangunt.” 
On  the  first  day,  therefore,  there  was  no  de- 
bate. It  was  rumored  that  evening  that  Pitt 
was  better.  But  on  the  following  morning  his 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


361 

physicians,  pronounced  that  there  were  no 
hopes.  The  commanding  faculties  of  which 
he  had  been  too  proud  were  beginning  to  fail. 
His  old  tutor  and  friend,  the  Bishop  of  Lin- 
coln, informed  him  of  his  danger,  and  gave 
such  religious  advice  and  consolation  as  a con- 
fused and  obscured  mind  could  receive.  Sto- 
ries were  told  of  devout  sentiments  fervently 
uttered  by  the  dying  man.  But  these  stories 
found  no  credit  with  any  body  who  knew  him. 
Wilberforce  pronounced  it  impossible  that 
they  could  be  true.  “ Pitt,”  he  added,  “was  a 
man  who  always  said  less  than  he  thought  on 
such  topics.”  It  was  asserted  in  many  after- 
dinner  speeches,  Grub  Street  elegies,  and  ac- 
ademic prize  poems  and  prize  declamations, 
that  the  great  minister  died  exclaiming,  “ Oh 
my  country  ! ” This  is  a fable  : but  it  is  true 
that  the  last  words  which  he  uttered,  while  he 
knew  what  he  said,  were  broken  exclamations 
about  the  alarming  state  of  public  affairs.  He 
ceased  to  breathe  on  the  morning  of  the  23d  of 
January,  1806,  the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of 
the  day  on  which  he  first  took  his  seat  in  Par- 
liament. He  was  in  his  forty-seventh  year, 
and  had  been,  during  near  nineteen  years, 
First  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  and  undisputed 
chief  of  the  administration.  Since  parliamen- 
tary government  was  established  in  England, 
no  English  statesman  has  held  supreme  power 
so  long.  Walpole,  it  is  true,  was  First  Lord 
of  the  Treasury  during  more  than  twenty 
years  : but  it  was  not  till  Walpole  had  been 
some  time  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  that  he 
could  be  properly  called  Prime  Minister. 

It  was  moved  in  the  House  of  Commons 
that  Pitt  should  be  honored  with  a public 
funeral  and  a monument.  The  motion  was  op- 
posed by  Fox  in  a speech  which  deserves  to 
be  studied  as  a model  of  good  taste  and  good 
feeling.  The  task  was  the  most  invidious  that 
ever  an  orator  undertook  ; but  it  was  perform- 
ed with  a humanity  and  delicacy  which  were 


362  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

warmly  acknowledged  by  the  mourning  friends 
of  him  who  was  gone.  The  motion  was  car- 
ried by  288  votes  to  89. 

The  22d  of  February  was  fixed  for  the  fune- 
ral. The  corpse,  having  lain  in  state  during 
two  days  in  the  Painted  Chamber,  was  borne 
with  great  pomp  to  the  northern  transept  of 
the  Abbey.  A splendid  train  of  princes,  no- 
bles, bishops,  and  privy  councillors  followed. 
The  grave  of  Pitt  had  been  made  near  to  the 
spot  where  his  great  father  lay,  near  also  to  the 
spot  where  his  great  rival  was  soon  to  lie. 
The  sadness  of  the  assistants  was  beyond  that 
of  ordinary  mourners.  For  he  whom  they 
were  committing  to  the  dust  had  died  of  sor- 
rows and  anxieties  of  which  none  of  the  sur- 
vivors could  be  altogether  without  a share. 
Wilberforce,  who  carried  the  banner  before  the 
hearse,  described  the  awful  ceremony  with  deep 
feeling.  As  the  coffin  descended  into  the 
earth,  he  said,  the  eagle  face  of  Chatham  from 
above  seemed  to  look  down  with  consternation 
into  the  dark  house  which  wras  receiving  all 
that  remained  of  so  much  power  and  glory. 

All  parties  in  the  House  of  Commons  readi- 
ly concurred  in  voting  forty  thousand  pounds 
to  satisfy  the  demands  of  Pitt’s  creditors.  Some 
of  his  admirers  seemed  to  consider  the  magni- 
tude of  his  embarrassments  as  a circumstance 
highly  honorable  to  him  ; but  men  of  sense 
will  probably  be  of  a different  opinion.  It  is 
far  better,  no  doubt,  that  a great  minister 
should  carry  his  contempt  of  money  to  excess 
than  that  he  should  contaminate  his  hands  with 
unlawful  gain.  But  it  is  neither  right  nor  be- 
coming in  a man  to  whom  the  public  has  given 
an  income  more  than  sufficient  for  his  comfort 
and  dignity  to  bequeath  to  that  public  a great 
debt,  the  effect  of  mere  negligence  and  profu- 
sion. As  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  and 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  Pitt  never  had 
less  than  six  thousand  a year,  besides  an  ex- 
cellent house.  In  1792  he  was  forced  by  his 


WILLIAM  PITT. 


363 

royal  master’s  friendly  importunity  to  accept  for 
life  the  office  of  Warden  of  the  Cinque  Ports, 
with  near  four  thousand  a year  more.  He  had 
neither  wife  nor  child : he  had  no  needy  rela- 
tions : he  had  no  expensive  tastes : he  had  no 
long  election  bills.  Had  he  given  but  a quar- 
ter of  an  hour  a week  to  the  regulation  of  his 
household,  he  would  have  kept  his  expenditure 
within  bounds.  Or,  if  he  could  not  spare  even 
a quarter  of  an  hour  a week  for  that  purpose, 
he  had  numerous  friends,  excellent  men  of 
business,  who  would  have  been  proud  to  act  as 
his  stewards.  One  of  those  friends,  the  chief 
of  a great  commercial  house  in  the  city,  made 
an  attempt  to  put  the  establishment  in  Down- 
ing Street  to  rights  ; but  in  vain.  He  found 
that  the  waste  of  the  servants’  hall  was  almost 
fabulous.  The  quantity  of  butcher’s  meat 
charged  in  the  bills  was  nine  hundredweight  a 
week.  The  consumption  of  poultry,  of  fish, 
and  of  tea  was  in  proportion.  The  character 
of  Pitt  would  have  stood  higher  if,  with  the  dis- 
interestedness of  Pericles  and  of  De  Witt,  he 
had  united  their  dignified  frugality. 

The  memory  of  Pitt  has  been  assailed,  times 
innumerable,  often  justly,  often  unjustly  ; but 
it  has  suffered  much  less  from  his  assailants 
than  from  his  eulogists.  For,  during  many 
years,  his  name  was  the  rallying  cry  of  a class 
of  men  with  whom,  at  one  of  those  terrible  con- 
junctures which  confound  all  ordinary  distinc- 
tions, he  was  accidentally  and  temporarily  con- 
nected, but  to  whom,  on  almost  all  great  ques- 
tions of  principle,  he  was  diametrically  oppos- 
ed. The  haters  of  parliamentary  reform  called 
themselves  Pittites,  not  choosing  to  remember 
that  Pitt  made  three  motions  for  parliamentary 
reform,  and  that,  though  he  thought  that  such 
a reform  could  not  safely  be  made  while  the 
passions  excited  by  the  French  revolution  were 
raging,  he  never  uttered  a word  indicating  that 
he  should  not  be  prepared  at  a more  conven- 
ient season  to  bring  the  question  forward  a 


364  BIOGRAPHICAL  ESS  A VS. 

fourth  time.  The  toast  of  Protestant  ascen- 
dency was  drunk  on  Pitt’s  birthday  by  a set  of 
Pittites  who  could  not  but  be  aware  that  Pitt 
had  resigned  his  office  because  he  could  not 
carry  Catholic  emancipation.  The  defenders 
of  the  Test  Act  called  themselves  Pittites, 
though  they  could  not  be  ignorant  that  Pitt 
had  laid  before  George  the  Third  unanswera- 
ble reasons  for  abolishing  the  Test  Act.  The 
enemies  of  free  trade  called  themselves  Pittites, 
though  Pitt  was  far  more  deeply  imbued  with 
the  doctrines  of  Adam  Smith  than  either  Fox 
or  Grey.  The  very  negro-drivers  invoked  the 
name  of  Pitt,  whose  eloquence  was  nevermore 
conspicuously  displayed  than  when  he  spoke 
of  the  wrongs  of  the  negro.  This  mythical 
Pitt,  who  resembles  the  genuine  Pitt  as  little 
as  the  Charlemagne  of  Ariosto  resembles  the 
Charlemagne  of  Eginhard,  has  had  his  day. 
History  will  vindicate  the  real  man  from  cal- 
umny disguised  under  the  semblance  of  adula- 
tion, and  will  exhibit  him  as  what  he  was,  a 
minister  of  great  talents,  honest  intentions, 
and  liberal  opinions,  pre-eminently  qualified, 
intellectually  and  morally,  for  the  part  of  a 
parliamentary  leader,  and  capable  of  adminis- 
tering, with  prudence  and  moderation,  the 
government  of  a prosperous  and  tranquil 'coun- 
try, but  unequal  to  surprising  and  terrible  em- 
ergences, and  liable,  in  such  emergences,  to 
err  grievously,  both  on  the  side  of  weakness 
and  on  the  side  of  violence. 


